Soft Spot
by loveandsqualor
Summary: As he pushed the glass door open, he realised a tiny, almost pocket-sized person had stolen his favourite ergonomic chair. And it wasn’t the first time. House/Rachel/Cuddy. Originally a oneshot.
1. Identity

So, I wanted to write something about House and Rachel but teeny tiny babies can't have conversations, so, Rachel is five in this story.

**Soft Spot**

House paced towards his office feeling slightly better than the previous day. After an entire month of restless and painful nights, he had finally managed to sleep two straight hours… it wasn't a lot, but at least his head was not hurting and his eyes were not about to shut every minute.

Like always, someone had to ruin his semi peaceful disposition.

As he pushed the glass door open, he realised a tiny, almost _pocket-sized_ person had stolen his favourite ergonomic chair. And it wasn't the first time.

'Don't you have anything better to do, kid?' He spat out harshly.

The child in question, a five-year-old dressed impeccably in a white dress, her hair neatly combed by her mother's meticulous hands simply smiled as she sucked on her strawberry lollipop.

'My name is Rachel,' she retorted, frowning.

'Sorry, my bad,' House sat on his couch, stretching his leg out. 'Go bother your Uncle Jimmy, _kid_.'

The girl narrowed her eyes in anger. She hated Doctor House calling her 'kid' with a passion. She considered five a very respectable age which forced people around you to call you by your actual name. Uncle James called her Rachel, and so did everyone at the hospital, except for House.

'Seriously, get out of my chair.'

'You are sitting on the couch. You can't sit here too,' she granted him another toothless grin and crossed her legs. 'And Uncle James is with Mommy and the board.' She didn't know what 'the board' was for sure. She just knew it consisted in mostly old people who had to decide very important things because that was what Cuddy had told her when she had first asked. Some of those people where friendly and were always telling her how cute she was (sometimes it was annoying) or giving her chocolate or lollipops which her mother confiscated, much to her dismay.

But being an intuitive child, she was sure most of those people didn't like her very much and patted her head only because her mother was watching.

House never patted her head, but she liked him better than those who did. At least he wasn't trying that hard to seem nice. She also liked his chair and his tennis balls (though she wasn't allowed to play with them.)

'I'm sure your mommy would be really mad if I tell her you stole my chair,' he arched his eyebrows.

'No, she won't,' she dismissed him 'She told me I could bother you whenever I liked,' she mimicked her mother's tone and word.

God, he hated that fucking spring break!

'She did?'

Rachel nodded enthusiastically.

House pursed his lips thinking of a thousand ways of killing Cuddy, slowly and painfully. If she had chosen to adopt the leech, why did he have to put up with her antics? It was an unfair punishment. He guessed it was her revenge for all the horrible things he had done to her. Damn, why did she have to be so smart? She knew there was nothing worse than forcing him to spend time with a little kid. A little _girl_. Her _daughter_.

When Rachel had first said an insult, she blamed him. Hell, he was sure the extra clinic hours he was assigned that week were due to that.

When Rachel had first declared he didn't like old Baxter from Paediatrics, Cuddy blamed it all on him.

And he was not going to watch his mouth just because the child was there. If she didn't like it, she could always prevent her daughter from visiting him…

But the miracle never materialised, and House was beginning to worry.

`Doctor House,' Rachel suddenly spoke up. 'What are you doing?' She asked, puzzled. He was facing away from her, his eyes closed and his fists clenched.

'I'm avoiding you,' he replied, pitiless.

'What does that mean?'

'I'm imagining you're not here, sitting on my chair and asking me stupid questions,' he smirked to himself.

'You're not supposed to say that,' Rachel appeared shocked by his words.

'Says who?'

'Mommy,' she answered, as if Cuddy were the judge of everyone's actions. House simply chuckled.

Truth be told, he didn't absolutely hate the fact that Rachel kept showing up at his office when she was around the hospital. The girl was not entirely unbearable. She didn't cry, she didn't ask for candy every two seconds. Sometimes she didn't speak at all. She would just sit and draw, or sit and watch him as he flicked through some medical journals or listened to music. Still, he liked to keep the façade…

He observed her out of the corner of her eyes. She was drumming her fingers against the glass desk and trying to whistle a familiar song, the lollipop still in her mouth, her eyes closed as though she were reflecting on something crucial.

'Doctor House?'

'What do you want now?' He exclaimed, exasperated. OK, maybe he did hate her constant visits.

'Can I tell the kids at school that you're my Daddy?'

If House had been drinking coffee, he would have choked on it and spill the remains all over his crumpled shirt.

'What?!'

'Charlie Lewis makes fun of me because I don't have a daddy,' she explained, pouting, her blue eyes welling up with tears.

House sighed in exasperation. The last thing he needed was Cuddy's daughter having doubts about her identity in his presence. Now Cuddy would be all over him (and not in the way he fantasised about), making him responsible for the kid's questions- - lovely. He stood up and limped towards the only free chair and sat down across the girl.

'Well, I'm not your daddy, Rachel,' he realised he had called her by her first name. And so did Rachel, who smiled softlty.

'I know,' she lowered her gaze. 'But… Charlie…'

'Charlie is an idiot. He might have a daddy but I bet he doesn't know how to write his name.' He had taught her to do that, a month ago, when she had paid him another of her visits, just to keep her quiet for a while.

Rachel grinned. 'No, he doesn't.'

'See. Having a daddy doesn't mean you should be smarter or better.' Wow, was he actually comforting somebody? What was wrong with him these days? Did he have a soft spot for _Rachel_?

No. He didn't. He was just telling her the truth.

'I tell you what,' House decided he could say something to make the girl feel better. After all, it was not her fault that she didn't have a father, and five year old kids could be incredibly mean… any other day, he would have told her to go away. It was not very often that he felt the urge to help the people around him. 'You tell that Charlie Lewis kid that you don't have a father, but you have a friend that will kick his ass,' Rachel's eyes widened 'if he keeps making fun of you. OK?'

Rachel's features lit up, her lips curving into a smile. House found himself smirking.

'Okay. But Mommy won't let me say that. It's a bad word, doctor House,' she clarified.

'Your mommy won't find out. We'll tell her on your eighteenth birthday,' he winked his left eye. _Winked_! 'Do we have a deal?'

The little girl leaned forward and intertwined her tiny fingers with House's large callous ones, and shook his hand, sealing the deal.

'Yes,' she replied. 'Do you have some candy?'

House rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion. 'Just when I was beginning to think you were not _that_ bad.'

'I'm not that bad,' she retorted, grimacing. 'Do you have candy or not?'

'Not for you. You'll have to ask one of the nurses. I only have one lollipop,' he searched for it inside one his trousers' pockets. 'For me,' he concluded as he tore the wrap apart under Rachel's jealous gaze.

'I hate you,' she blurted out, annoyed.

'You stole my chair. We're even,' he smirked, full of himself.

'I still want to tell the kids at school that you're my daddy. You have a bike,' she said. House knew she was just trying to trick him into giving candy. He knew better.

'I'm still not giving you _my_ candy, but thank you,' he chortled, and Rachel's face confirmed his theory.

'You're mean.'

'I know. But one lollipop is not enough.' He stood up. 'Let's go steal some candy from the Nurse Station!'

Rachel beamed and quickly rose from her chair. She attempted to grab his hand, but he pulled away.

'You won't tell mommy, would you?' She inquired, worried that she might get in trouble.

House laughed to himself.

'We'll tell her on your eighteenth birthday.'

* * *

A/N: So, yes. Nice, sweet, OOC. Did you like it?


	2. Partners in Crime

**Partners in crime**

'_Why would you want me to babysit the parasite? Face it Cuddy, we'd set your house on fire,' House was speaking in a very slow voice, as though addressing a little child, as he made himself comfortable on his couch._

'_Maybe because no one's available today… not even my currently unemployed sister,' she picked Rachel's backpack from the floor, switching the phone to her other ear in the process._

'_Who says I'm available?' He placed his bad leg over the table. 'I could have hired a hooker, or, I don't know, be having a date?'_

_Cuddy chuckled, compassionless. 'Yeah, right. Don't make me laugh.'_

'_You already did, Cuddy,' he replied, his voice sombre. 'I'm sorry, it's a no. Actually, I'm not even sorry.' He paused for a moment. 'Now you can start begging or bribe me into saying yes… I can think of a really effective bribe…'_

'_Shut up House, you're not getting any. I'll give you two hours off the clinic.'_

'_Just two? Jesus woman, you are really underestimating your kid's ability to get on my nerves. Say,' he frowned '…ten and we have a deal.'_

'_Five. It would be for a couple of hours, not for an entire week,' Cuddy sounded annoyed._

_House rolled his eyes. 'Fine. But I am not to be held responsible if your house has turned to ashes when you return from that moronic fundraiser.'_

_

* * *

  
_

Half an hour late, House parked his motorbike outside Cuddy's place.

He limped his way towards the door, mentally cursing himself for having agreed to look after the kid. He knocked the door, twice. Any other day he'd just barged in, but he this time he didn't even want Cuddy to open the door.

He should have asked for twenty less clinic hours.

Much to his surprise, Rachel herself opened the door. As far as he was concerned, Cuddy didn't allow her to do that, since she feared she would be kidnapped by gipsies or something equally unlikely.

'You're late,' the small figure dressed in pink flannel pyjamas pointed out, accusingly.

'I know. Where's your mother?'

'Getting ready.'

He stepped into the house, forcing Rachel to move away from the entry, and closed the door behind him.

'I don't want you kidnapped by some weird guy from Puerto Rico under my supervision. But I do want you kidnapped, don't get your hopes up,' he declared. Rachel stared at him, puzzled.

'Mommy said she wanted to speak to you. She's in her room,' Rachel raised her index and pointed in the direction of her bedroom. It's not like it was necessary. He knew exactly where it was. 'You're in trouble,' she added, a very unladylike smile plastered on her face.

House snorted. 'I'm always in trouble when it comes to your mommy dearest, kid. After five years, I thought you'd be smart enough to know it.'

'I am smart. And you are in trouble,' she smiled again and House felt the urge to strangle her. She was too _cute_ for her own good.

House ignored her and headed for Cuddy's room just when she was exiting it, dressed for the fundraiser in a positively breathtaking evening gown.

'You should wear black more often,' he joked, knowing that Cuddy tended to wear black a hell of a lot when she worked. The dress did do her justice. She looked… stunning.

'Save me the compliment and tell me why Charlie Lewis' mother called me out of her mind because Rachel told him one of his friends would kick his ass,' Cuddy's expression was severe.

'Well, that Wilson guy should stop cursing around your little leech…'

'Oh, cut the crap House, Rachel told me you were the one who taught her that,' she spat out harshly, and House was somewhat angry at her.

Once in his life, he had set his mind to help _Rachel_ out and now he was being scolded for that.

'Did she tell you why I taught her that?' He inquired, his voice rather cracked.

'No, but I don't need your reasons…'

He cut her off. 'Trust me, you do,' he hissed.

Something in House's eyes suggested he meant what he had said, and Cuddy began to worry. She entered her bedroom again and House followed, suppressing an insinuating innuendo remark.

'What happened?'

'Apparently, that Charlie kid was making fun of her because she doesn't have, you know, a father,' House explained casually, as though willing to rest importance to the subject. It didn't work, since Cuddy sat on the bed looking appalled and brought her hand to her forehead in a defeated gesture.

'Why did she tell you and not me?'

'I don't know, Cuddy. She was there, sitting on my chair, and suddenly she asked me if she could tell the kids at school that _I_ was her father…'

'What?! Why you?' Ok, Rachel may not share her DNA but she had also succumbed to House's uncanny charm—or so it seemed.

'…because that Charlie kid was bugging her,' he finished the sentence, ignoring her comment. 'And I told her the obvious, that I am not her father…'

'And when does the kick ass thing barges in?'

'And she was all teary, and blah blah, so I told her she could tell that idiotic Charlie Lewis that I would kick his ass,' he resumed his explanation.

'Why didn't you tell me? If she's having doubts about that, she should talk to me.'

'It was supposed to be a secret. Too bad Charlie's mommy blew the whistle,' he said mockingly.

They were silent for a while.

'House? What else did you tell her?' Cuddy asked, worried that House might have said something incredibly nasty to her little girl.

'Nothing. Seriously,' He glanced at the clock placed on her night table. 'You are gonna be late. You are late.'

'So were you,' Cuddy retorted, rising from the bed and straightening her dress. 'Get out and go look after my child.'

'Oh, come on, you're not even gone yet!' He whined in his usual way.

* * *

'You little parasite!' House sat next to Rachel on her bed. 'Why didn't you tell your mother why I told you I would kick Charlie's ass?'

Cuddy had left five minutes ago, after having given him a bunch of instructions he had forgotten by the time she left the house.

'I don't know,' the girl was facing away from him, clutching onto a tiny teddy bear he was sure Wilson had bought. At least it wasn't a blanket. That would have been incredibly clichéd and corny. 'I wanted you to get in trouble,' she turned around in order to face him, a wide smile lighting up her features.

If the girl hadn't been Cuddys and adopted, a stranger could have thought House and her were related.

'I was trying to help you and you wanted me to get in trouble? No wonder Charlie makes fun of you!'

'Shut up,' Rachel narrowed her eyes in fake anger.

'What makes you think you can actually make me stop talking?'

'I'm hungry?' The girl tried.

House, for the eleventh time in an hour, rolled his eyes. 'Fine. If you die of hunger, I will have to work for your _mommy_ until my ninetieth birthday,' He stood up in one fluid motion, wincing from the pain it caused.

'You OK?' Rachel asked, concerned, as he rubbed his leg in a futile attempt to ease the pain away.

'I'm fine,' he replied, limping in the direction of the bedroom's exit. 'I'll see what your mother left for us.'

Rachel rose from the bed and swiftly joined him as he walked into the kitchen.

'You don't want to,' she confided, whispering.

'I don't?'

The little girl shook her head, her face showing disgust.

'Uncle James always orders pizza,' Rachel informed while House inspected the weird and probably horrible stuff they were supposed to eat. If he was going to babysit the bloodsucker, at least she could have left him money to order some takeout. It wasn't like he'd buy drugs with her money.

'I'm not surprised. Does she always make you eat this veggie awful stuff?' He pulled a face.

'Not _always_, but a lot,' she defended her mother. 'It's good for me.'

'Yeah, right. What do you like on your pizza?'

'You sure? Mommy will be very angry…'

'I know. And it's fun; Wanna be my partner in crime?'

* * *

Cuddy turned up at home passed midnight, weary and even depressed. Two potential donors had hit on her, and she had been forced to play along with them so that they wouldn't develop a Freudian complex and refuse to help her build the new Paediatrics wing. And the two men in question were so hopelessly boring!

Coming home was a relief after having endured their behaviour for an entire evening. And House and Rachel hadn't burned down the house, which was also great… but the household was too silent, too still. It was surprising, since she had thought House would increase Rachel's sugar intake considerably, only to piss her off.

The muffled sound of the TV that reached her ears meant they were probably in her room, so she literally dragged her feet in its direction. The pumps she had worn were killing her, and were left discarded somewhere in the hall.

She entered her room, almost expecting her daughter and her nanny (if House found out she had called him that even in her thoughts, he'd kill her) to be wide awake and waiting for her comeback. Instead, she found the two of them deeply asleep on her bed. If House had been the first one to fall asleep. She'd scold him for that later, but at the moment, it didn't matter—Rachel was resting her head against his chest, and one of his arms was wrapped protectively around her tiny frame. She looked so small, and House looked so big and tall. Five years ago, when she had decided to foster and adopt Rachel, she could have never imagined such a scene. House had been reluctant to accept the fact that her daughter was there to stay… she knew he was capable of connecting with children, and for some strange reason, Rachel was very fond of him. Maybe it was because House indulged Rachel's every whim, driven by a fierce desire for pissing Cuddy off…

But still, he had been even nice to her with the Charlie Lewis issue. Maybe he cared for her. Cuddy smiled at the thought.

She wasn't up for logical explanations at 1 am, when a man she was sure she loved was comfortably resting on her bed next to her daughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, hoping House, a light sleeper, wouldn't wake up. He surely was tired and he could spend the night there if he wanted… she'd sleep on Rachel's bed. At least it was better than the couch. He stared at the two of them for a brief second before standing up in order to turn off the TV.

And then, House woke up. She knew it without even having to look; his breathing became more noticeable, she heard him stir…

'So, how was the fundraiser?' He inquired, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

'Horrible,' she replied without even bothering to look at him.

'How many guys made a line in order to…' he began, but Cuddy cut him off.

'Not now, House. I'm really tired and I just want to go to bed. And I know you are raising an eyebrow suggestively, and the answer is no, _again_,' her tone was bossy and determinate.

'Killjoy,' House mumbled and sat back on the bed, pushing Rachel aside carefully. Cuddy caught a glimpse of his tender movements out of the corner of her eye. Rachel didn't even flinch. 'I guess I better go now,' he uttered in between yawns.

'You don't have to leave,' Cuddy turned around.

'Talk about mixed signals…'

'I meant you don't have to drive home if you are tired. It's late,' she didn't even have the energy to argue with him. 'I'll take Rachel's bed,' she resumed while searching for a pair of pyjamas in one of her drawers.

'Never mind,' he stood up and grabbed his cane. He had left it resting against the bedside table. 'I have to go.' He walked out of the room and Cuddy followed him.

'Are you sure?' She took a few steps closer to him.

'Yes, it's fine. I can't show up at work with the same clothes, can I?' The tone he employed made perfectly clear that was not his real reason. 'Half of the hospital thinks we've been sleeping together for years, wouldn't want to give them reasons to believe it's true.'

'Since when do you care about my reputation? You did nothing but start that kind of rumours.'

'Hey, it wasn't me!' He lied 'It was the weird six fingered nurse!'

'Yeah, right. I know you ordered pizza. I expressly told you not to. Rachel should be eating healthy stuff…'

'Oh, come on Cuddy, she's only five. It's not like she eats pizza all the time. You are her _mother_, after all, even if she's adopted. That crap we were supposed to eat smelled horribly and she likes _vegetables_ on her pizza. Most 5 year olds don't even go near vegetables by themselves unless you threaten them with a gunshot.'

Cuddy rolled her eyes. 'It better be the last time.'

'I love it when you get all maternal with me, Cuddles... so Oedipus-like…'

'Shut up,' she spat out, angrily.

'Oh, there, you did it again,' he brought his hand to his heart mockingly, but this time she smiled softly.

They were silent for a little while, standing in the doorstep, two uncertain figures.

'House?' Cuddy spoke up.

'What?' He replied, almost rudely.

'Thank you,' her voice was soft, free of its usual bossy manner.

'I can't believe you are thanking me even if I taught your spawn a bad, bad word!' He made fun of her, but his tone suddenly got serious. 'I must've done something right, then.'

'You did.' Before leaving for the fundraiser, she had had a small but revealing talk with Rachel. The little girl had reproduced exactly what House had said. If he had been any other person, she'd have hug him or kiss him on the cheek. But it wasn't the case. And if she kissed him… well, he'd make fun of her for the rest of her life.

His hand came to rest on the doorknob.

'Well, then, you're welcome.'

And with that, he left.

* * *

A/N: Wow. This is the longest chapter I've ever written! I've been stuck for weeks with my other House fic, but this one was quite easy to write. I know you were probably looking forward to a bit of House/Rachel interaction, but since I think this story will end up becoming a multi-chaptered fic, I thought there'd be plenty of chances for it in the future.

Please, DO review and let me know what you think. Shall I continue with this story?

Love you all :)


	3. Ferpectionist

**Ferpectionist**

'Doctor House?'

House looked up from the Journal he had been trying to read for the last twenty minutes only to find Rachel peeking at him shyly from the corner of his office. He hadn't realised she had entered the room—how weird. She was wearing her school's uniform: white polo shirt with Riverside Elementary School's logo, blue sweatpants, blue cardigan and white sneakers.

'What now, kid?'

'My name is _Rachel_,' she grimaced and rolled her eyes.

'I know,' he replied. 'If you don't mind, I'm trying to read here,' he sent a threatening glare in Rachel's direction, but the little girl simply giggled. Well, maybe he wasn't trying _that_ hard to intimidate her.

'You are not trying to read. You are avoiding me,' Rachel recalled a previous conversation with House.

'Way to go, Sherlock,' House replied, slightly annoyed. 'What do you need?'

'I need help with my homework,' she paced slowly towards House's desk, clutching onto her log book firmly. 'And Mommy and Uncle James are busy with patients.'

'That's not true. Wilson's free and so is Cuddy. You are lying.'

'I'm not!' Rachel exclaimed.

'Yes, you are. You're blushing,' He stared at the little girl, her pale skin turning a bright shade of red. 'Furiously,' he added.

'Shut up.'

'You don't need help with your homework. You can do it on your own. You are in the first grade, kid, not in Med School,' House grabbed another Journal and proceeded to ignore the fact that Rachel was there, again.

'But I have to ask you some questions. That's what the teacher told us to do,' Rachel retorted in a high-pitched voice.

'Why me?' House threw his hands in the air dramatically. If the kid was not going to disappear, he might as well help her so that she would no longer have an excuse to stay there annoying the hell out of him. At least, that was what he told himself. 'Cameron would gladly help you with your homework.'

'She can't.' The girl handed him the log book and somehow ended up sitting on House's good leg, without even giving him time to protest. House coughed, but Rachel did not take the hint, or was merely determined to remain there. She opened the log book promptly and pointed at the page were she had written down her assignment. House almost smiled when he realised she had great handwriting for a first grader.

_Answer a few questions about your mom and dad_

'We've already discussed this, kid. I am not your f…' He began to explain, but, much to his surprise, was cut off by Rachel herself.

'Keep reading.'

_I don't have a dad, but I have a very good friend. __His name is Doctor House._

'I guess this means I'll have to answer a bunch of stupid questions about my dreams and aspirations,' House said, sighing.

Rachel nodded.

'Go ahead; let's get this done as quickly as possible.'

'Okay,' Rachel beamed and took hold of a pencil 'What's your favourite colour?'

'Er…blue, I guess.'

Rachel put it in writing using an oversized pencil.

'What's your favourite animal?'

'Steve McQueen,' he replied. Steve was not a rat. He was simply Steve.

'That's not an animal doctor House. It doesn't exist!' She tried to look up at him, the top of her head colliding with House's chin.

'Yes it does. He was my pet for a long, long time,' House retorted melancholically. 'Write it down, kid. I'm answering, so don't complain about my answers.'

'Fine,' Rachel grimaced, and proceeded to write _STEVE_ in capital letters. House smirked, pleased. 'The next question is easy, you're a doc-tor,' she pursed her lips, frowning in concentration, as she wrote it down. 'And… you like pizza.' She scribbled that as well.

'Playing 20 questions is getting really boring. I like playing the piano and watching soap operas,' he said, reading the next two questions.

'How do you spell that?' Rachel raised an eyebrow quizzically.

'Does it matter? Just write as it sounds, kid,' House sounded irritated.

'I don't want to,' she answered, sounding exactly like Cuddy. 'How - do - you - spell - it?' She was nearly screaming at House.

It seemed like the Cuddy bossy manner was an acquired taste, and not a genetic feature.

House spelled the world for her, fearing she might have killed him if he didn't. He watched her as she carefully draw each letter and smiled at him, utterly satisfied, when she was able to write it perfectly well.

'A perfectionist, just like your mother…' He mumbled, fairly amused. Cuddy was turning the kid into a neurotic.

'What's a ferpectionist?' She inquired, curious.

'A _perfectionist _is someone who always wants to do things right, even if _she_ can't.'

'But that's not wrong. It's okay. Mommy likes to do things right…' She immediately realised where House was going. Damn, the runt was smart.

'Any other question?' House changed the subject quickly, but that wouldn't have been necessary, since they were interrupted by Cuddy in that exact moment. She appeared quite crossed, but her expression softened when she saw the scene displayed in front of her. But it didn't last long.

House held Rachel by the waist and firmly planted her on the floor, feeling somehow embarrassed at having been found in a situation that could be mistaken for sweet and caring.

'Rachel, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you everywhere,' Cuddy scolded the girl, who had the courtesy to blush.

'Sorry mommy,' she muttered, her gaze firmly fixed on her left foot. 'I needed help with my homework.'

'Is that true?' Cuddy's question was directed to House. He nodded. 'Fine. But next time, let me know when you leave my office, OK?'

'Yes,' Rachel strode towards her mother and grabbed the hand she was offering. 'Thanks doctor House,' she smiled.

Cuddy sent him the 'move-your-ass-and-go-do-clinic-duty' glare before exiting the office swiftly, without even looking back.

She didn't want to look back. Every time she caught House being nice to Rachel, she founded herself at a loss for words. She could deal with ass House, miserable House, high House, snarky House and pervert House, but nice House was a completely different affair… all the walls she had constructed between them, especially since that night when Joy's adoption had failed miserably and since the desk incident she still hadn't forgotten, seemed to come crashing down whenever he acted pleasantly.

And she didn't want it to happen. She knew House and she could not get involved. They'd drive each other crazy. And he'd eventually get bored and leave her, hurting her and Rachel in the process. It was the last part what she feared the most. She was a grown woman, she could overcome a heartbreak, but Rachel was so tiny, so fragile. Not having a father was a big thing for her… she didn't want her to suffer from abandonment, again.

* * *

House watched the two Cuddy girls walk away, and then returned to his Journal. He realised Rachel had forgotten her notebook, and he rolled his eyes. Why did she have to make his life so complicated?

He picked it up and opened it, flicking through the pages, thick with glue and heavy ink.

He realised Rachel had written an awful lot about him on her notebook, whenever she had to depict something close to a paternal figure.

_Doctor House is fun. He hides from mommy and plays with his tennis __**bals**__ when he is not working. He uses a __**caine**__. Mommy says he is very, very smart. He always has candy for me._

There were some snippets about Cuddy as well.

_Mommy is a doctor__ and she works in a big hospital in Prinston. She is the boss. _

He made sure no one was around and smirked. No, he smiled.

Being a part of the little runt's life was not that bad, after all.

* * *

**A/N:** Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Hahahaha. OOCness rocks. This chapter was a bit short, maybe because I wanted to update this fanfic as soon as possible. I'd die happily of a cutennes overdose now.

IDK how American schools work, but you can start the first grade being 5 years old. And Rachel will turn 6 on December. Her birthday party might be the subject of the next chapter.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's official, this will be a Huddy/Rachel multi chaptered fic.

REVIEW (hahaha, ok, that was a little pushy of me). PLEASE.

Thank you so much for your reviews so far. Let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions, post them as well.

Love you :)


	4. Piano is fine

**Piano is fine**

'Holy crap, Cuddy, what now?' House exclaimed as he realised it had been his boss who had shook his shoulder violently in order to wake him up from a much anticipated nap. 'That hurt,' he whimpered, rubbing his shoulder. 'I don't remember signing up for a 'get another useless limb' contest.' He sat back on the armchair.

'It wasn't that bad, House. Just a minor reminder of how you should _not_ be taking naps during your clinic shift,' she patted his shoulder condescendingly and smiled, a dangerous smile that suggested he would be in deep shit if he didn't obey. But he was not intimidated by it, not at all. She looked so hot when she was screaming at him he was a jerk, that it was a pity she was not angry all the time.

'But moooom,' he complained. 'I'm tired. And you promise babysitting your little parasite would get me out of the clinic,' he finished in an annoying whiny, high-pitched voice.

'Yes. Last week,' she replied curtly. 'Clinic. Now.'

'Fine,' he pouted and grabbed his cane reluctantly before getting to his feet.

Cuddy was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for him, in order to make sure he didn't run away from his obligations by hiding in the janitor's closet or something just as likely.

'Are you a cop or something?' He grumbled as he brushed past her in order to get through the door.

Cuddy decided ignoring his stupid comment was the best course of action and walked with him towards the elevators, something that can only be described as an uncomfortable atmosphere hanging in the air and practically forcing them to remain silent. Of course, that didn't stop House from his occasional and infamous _peeking_… Cuddy rolled her eyes every time she realised where his gaze was fixed.

They stepped into the empty lift.

'Rachel's birthday is in two days,' Cuddy finally broke the silence.

'Oh,' House looked up as if the ceiling were a sight to behold. 'I should have taken the stairs. Now you are gonna bribe me into buying a gift for the little leech.'

'Not entirely…' Cuddy fidgeted with a loose tress of hair, twisting it relentlessly. 'I need a favour.'

'If it's not a sexual favour, I think I'll pass.' Since when did an elevator ride last so long?

Cuddy rolled her eyes. Of course, House had to be House.

'Rachel wants a piano for her birthday,' Cuddy explained. 'She's been taking lessons at school and she's quite good at it… somehow she and her teacher convinced me that buying a baby grand is the best thing I can do,' she smiled.

She smiled more often now that she had Rachel with her. How irrational she had been, not being able to bond with the little kid from the first moment... she couldn't believe the idea of giving her up had even crossed her mind in that moment of utter anxiety.

'Would you please stop smiling at some lovely inner thought? You look like an idiot,' the stepped out of the elevator. 'If you excuse me, I have clinic duty,' he smirked as she stared at him, hatred in her eyes. He had turned her own orders against her.

'It can wait two minutes, House. You are not that eager to finish it.'

'Actually, I am. I'm not eager to _start_ it…but the crazy bitch that runs this hospital insists on me doing it…' He said mockingly.

'Haha' she chuckled sarcastically. 'Two hours off the clinic if you help me with the piano thing.'

'A piano? Cuddy, she's five years old. A piano would spoil her rotten,' House exclaimed. And then he freaked out; it was as if he was Rachel's dad and was giving his wife advice about how to raise her…

And Cuddy noticed it as well, for she was smirking to herself in a most hideous way.

'I've always wanted a piano… I used to take lessons when I was a kid and I never got to practise properly because I didn't have one at home.'

'Fine, do whatever you want,' he deflected the subject for his altered mood and Cuddy's unspoken teasing. 'As long as it gets me out of this clinic,' he gestured towards it, with a face of disgust.

* * *

'You are joining _Cuddy_ on her search for Rachel's _birthday present_?' Wilson asked, surprised, as House made himself comfortable on his office's couch. 'You do realise you are about to perform a good deed, don't you?'

'It's not a good deed, wise man. Clinic duty is a _bitch_,' House sighed melodramatically.

Wilson chuckled in response. He knew House would never actually admit he was going to enjoy searching for the piano… it wasn't just an excuse for leaving the clinic. He was the man's best friend and he took pride in knowing him like no one did.

'Yeah, right,' he rose from his chair and walked towards the door.

'Yeah right what?'

'Nothing, I was just…' He did a strange gesture with his hands, '…agreeing with you.' He placed his hand on the knob and turned around before exiting the room, in order to make another remark, but changed his mind and exited the room.

'Yeah, right,' House's response reached his ears.

* * *

'No, this one sucks,' House stated while examining the wooden piano closely. 'Machine manufactured. All of it. Crap.'

'There's something called sentences, you might have heard of them…' Cuddy replied.

'My grammar is not the point. They are robbing their clients charging this ridiculous amount of money for crappy pianos,' he was nearly shouting.

'House, stop with the whining and lower your voice!' Cuddy exclaimed, as she realised one of the shop assistants was walking in their direction.

'Too late for that,' House grumbled as he spotted the guy in question.

'Hello, my name is Andrew. Can I help you, sir?' He asked, frowning.

'Yes,' Cuddy smiled in a friendly way.

'No,' House replied, his voice harsh. frowning at the stranger.

Andrew decided to ignore the crabby man and instead focus on the beautiful lady that was with him. Damn it, why did the jerks always get good girls?

Cuddy paid no heed to House's words as well. 'I'm looking for a decent piano…'

'Not an electronic one,' House cut in.

'My daughter, she's six, plays the piano. So, it has to be a resistant one,' she added in her best "children-tend-to-be-careless-so-don't-offer-me-a-30 thousand dollars-instrument" tone.

'Oh, I see,' Andrew offered Cuddy a smile. 'Children…'

'Exactly. Nothing too fancy or too expensive.'

House thought he was going to throw up if Cuddy smiled at that Alex, Andrew guy again.

'I think I have exactly what you need.'

He led House and Cuddy to a corner of the store they still hadn't seen and pointed at a piano he called 'A safe choice: nice sound, good quality, reasonable price." Every word out of his mouth seemed to have been coated in sugar by one of Santa Claus' elfs—and Cuddy was enjoying every second of it.

He pushed past them and sat on the piano stool ("Included in the final price," the shop assistant had assured them) determined to check if the guy's words were true. He pressed on some of the keys, carefully, until his fingers got used to that particular piano keys, and soon he was playing a tune Cuddy hadn't heard before. He was frowning in concentration; his eyes were almost shut, his lips slightly pursed…

'Nice sound,' House approved of the piano, shaking Cuddy out of her reverie. He then rose to his feet and began to examine every inch of the baby grand meticulously, under Cuddy and Andrew's curious gaze.

'Wow, your boyfriend seems to know a lot about pianos,' Andrew tried out, hoping he would be able to unravel the mystery concerning that odd couple.

'He does,' she retorted, satisfied… and then she realised the stupidity of her mistake. 'Oh, he's not my boyfriend, he's my…'

'Husband,' House clarified from his position under the baby grand. Cuddy widened her eyes and stared at him, murderous thoughts running freely across her mind.

'Oh, I see,'

He then proceeded to stand up and wrap his arm around her, before she had time to protest. 'Piano is fine, _darling_. I'm sure Rachel will simply _adore_ it,' he remarked in what he clearly considered a sweet husband-like voice. His arm was like a steel barrier around her… she couldn't quite tell if she liked it or loathed it.

The first option was way more likely.

'We're taking it,' Cuddy meant to be friendly, but her voice showed too much uneasiness for a satisfactory effect.

'Marvellous,' Andrew faked another smile. 'I'll see what we can arrange as regards delivery,' he concluded and then practically run away from them.

'House!' Cuddy hissed 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Scaring the hell out of the guy,' he lied.

Damn, he was actually enjoying the situation.

'Why? He was just being nice.'

'Nice? Cuddy, he was hitting on you. He kept staring at your ass every five seconds.' He paused, still not letting go of her. 'And you were playing along.'

'No, I wasn't. You can actually be nice to people without flirting… of course, you're never nice to people, so how would you now?' She tried to throw her hands up in the air, but found out she was not able to. 'And if I was flirting, what do you care?'

'Well, since I'm a miserable jerk I might as well act like one and ruin your every chance at getting a decent love life,' he smirked.

'I was not going to date that guy,' she replied, exasperated. 'I was just being nice and polite to him. And you didn't need to play the husband card. Get your hands off me, now.'

'But Cuddles,' he whined, reluctantly letting go of her.

'Shut up, House. You had your chance five years ago and you wasted it,' she grinned, pleased that she had taken control of the situation. 'Get over me.'

House grimaced and was about to say something when Andrew showed up again, asking in they were going to pay in cash, by check or using a credit card.

Damn him.

* * *

**A/N:** So, pure Huddy, and no Rachel… at all. Hahaha. I promise next chapter will feature Huddy + Rachel (Rachel's bday party). Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And BTW, my aunt and uncle just returned from a trip to London (I live in Argentina) and they bought me The Gun Seller! I'm so happy I could scream :)

Thanks for your lovely reviews… keep posting them.

Love you all.


	5. Laryngitis

**Laryngitis**

'Mommy?' Rachel's voice called out to her mother in the middle of the night. The snow was falling hard outside, and Cuddy was sound asleep, one arm wrapped around her pillow, her curly hair covering one side of her face in a ridiculous fashion. After buying the piano, she had returned to the hospital and worked for at least three more hours, until she realised she had promised Rachel she would have dinner with her. She left the building swiftly, the streets slippery and icy under her impractical high heels, and rushed home, greeted the nanny farewell and kept her promise. 'Mommy?' Rachel paced towards her mother's bed and shook her arm gently.

'Mm-h?' Cuddy mumbled, blinking sleepily and sitting back on the bed. She rubbed her eyes in hopes of getting a better of view of her surroundings. 'What is it?' She inquired, half awake, and leaning over in order to turn on the lights.

'Can I sleep here tonight?' Rachel bit her lower lip and clutched firmly onto her teddy bear's little arm.

Cuddy smiled sheepishly, pulled the covers aside and brought her hand to her daughter's forehead. She wasn't running a fever. 'Of course you can,' Rachel climbed into the bed contently. Cuddy wrapped an arm around her still tiny frame and planted a kiss on the top of her blonde head. 'Are you okay?' Cuddy wondered. It had been months since Rachel had made that kind of requests.

'My tummy aches,' Rachel looked up at her pouting and rubbed her stomach with her free hand.

'Oh, I see,' Cuddy smiled. 'I think you are trying to miss a school day, little one.'

'No mommy' Rachel replied indignantly. 'My tummy aches. What if I have laryngitis?' Cuddy made a mental note not to let Rachel being around House that much, and laughed at her daughter's question.

'Why are you laughing? Laryngitis is not funny!'

'Oh, I know sweetie. But if you had laryngitis, your tummy wouldn't ache,' she explained.

'Really?' The little girl raised an eyebrow quizzically.

'You'd be coughing,' she simplified the explanation. 'And your throat would be itchy.' She let out a yawn. 'To bed, Miss Rachel,' she placed a finger on the tip of Rachel's tiny nose.

'But I _am_ in bed,' she retorted, frowning. 'What if I have a weird laryngitis that makes my tummy ache?' She inquired, her curiosity still not satisfied, looking up at her mother.

'I doubt it,' she stretched her arm and turned off the lights.

'_Fine_,' Rachel pouted. 'But I'm gonna ask doctor House tomorrow.'

'Okay,' The little girl drew closer to her, the smell of her strawberry shampoo wafting into her nostrils, and she began to stroke her daughter's blonde curls until she fell asleep, still grabbing the rugged teddy bear tightly. Her breathing was even and soft. No signs of laryngitis.

* * *

'Doctor House?'

From his position in front of the computer, House glanced across the room and found the little blonde leech dressed in a fancy school uniform staring at him.

'Don't you ever get tired of visiting me?' He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically as Rachel approached his desk swiftly. She sat on the chair opposite him.

'No,' she smiled widely. 'I wanted to ask you a question.'

'You already did that, kid.'

'Another question, silly,' this time she rolled her eyes. 'Can laryngitis make my tummy ache?'

'If by 'tummy' you mean stomach, no. Happy now?' He spat out roughly, looking away from Rachel.

'Very,' the little girl nodded enthusiastically.

'Then leave. I'm busy here.'

'Okay,' came Rachel's cheerful retort. She began to make her way towards the door; halfway through, she changed her mind and turned around abruptly, here eyes shining with glee, a wide grin plastered on her freckled face.

'Tomorrow's my birthday, doctor House,' she reminded him.

'Big whoop,' he dismissed her sarcastically. 'I'm not gonna buy you a present.'

'I gave you a present!' She protested briskly, placing her hands on her hips in a way that reminded House of somebody…

'Yes, chewed chewing gum.'

'But I _gave you_ something!'

'It doesn't count, kid. You should have bought your _old pal_ House something cooler,' Old pal House? Was he insane?

'I didn't want to,' she stuck her tongue out. 'It counts.'

'Does not.'

'Does too.'

'Does _not_.'

'Does too.'

They heard someone clearing his or her, as far as they were concerned, throat, and House and Rachel were surprised to find out Cameron had entered the room without them noticing it. They had been too absorbed in their ridiculous argument. Rachel was very fond of her, since she had babysit her several times on weekends (when Cuddy had been forced to attend to extraordinary meetings) and was always around the hospital being nice to her.

'Can laryngitis make my tummy ache?' She inquired, practically tugging at the young doctor's lab coat.

'No, sweetie, I don't think so,' Cameron fondled the little girl's soft hair affectionately and glanced at her former boss with a curious look. House shrugged, as if saying 'I don't know what the hell is wrong with her'. 'Why don't you ask Chase?' She suggested.

'Okay.' Whit in seconds, Rachel had left the room hurriedly, running as fast as her short legs allowed her to.

Cameron smiled. 'She's amazing. I can't believe she's turning six tomorrow…'

'Blah, blah,' House cut her off. 'I have Cuddy for the cheesy mommy speeches. What do you need?'

Cameron narrowed her eyes and took a step forward.

'I have a case for you,' she explained, leaving the thin blue folder on his desk, which House grabbed hesitantly. He opened it, eyeing at her suspiciously, and read the patient's history.

'Easy one. _You_ diagnosed this once. He's got Wilson's. Put him on trientine hydrochloride and he'll be fine.' Cameron grimaced. 'You can do the genetic test if you want to.'

Cameron rolled her eyes and proceeded to exit the office. He flicked through the file and realised House was right. Wilson's was the most likely answer. Damn him.

* * *

Rachel had been sitting on one of Cuddy's armchairs for a long while. Her feet still didn't reach the floor, and she was balancing them in a steady rhythm, while Cuddy finished with her paperwork. 'I wanna go hooooome.'

'I know, sweetie, so do I. Just give me ten more minutes and we're out of here.' She looked up at Rachel and smiled. 'Why don't you get all your stuff together?'

'Okay,' Rachel jumped out of the armchair in one fluid motion and swiftly searched the room for her log book and pencil case and placed them inside her small pink backpack carefully. She then put her blue coat, scarf and beret on.

'Is doctor House coming to the party on Saturday?'

'I don't know, sweetie' Cuddy didn't look up. 'I asked him to come, but I don't know if he will.' It was the truth.

'He never comes,' Rachel pointed out rather sadly. 'He's mad at me because I gave him a chewed chewing gum for his birthday,' the little child giggled.

'You gave him a chewed chewing gum?' Cuddy chuckled, amused. He doubted House was really mad at Rachel because of that, but the story was nonetheless funny.

Rachel nodded. 'Yup. It was cherry flavour.' She paused for a moment, her expression suggesting she was doing some deep thinking. 'Can I buy a real present for him?'

'Mmm…' Cuddy began to answer, but Rachel insisted upon another subject.

'Can we go home now, mommy? Please?'

Cuddy signed the last document and threw the pen aside and smiled. 'Yes. Wait for me outside with Nurse Brenda. I'll get my stuff together.'

'Okay,' Rachel granted her one of her infamous toothless grins.

Cuddy watched her leave. Her little girl, so beautiful, so strong willed, so sure of herself…her own little person. Slowly, her lips curved into a wide smile. She closed her eyes and recalled the day she had found her, wrapped in a filthy blanket, the look on the face of the woman that had taken care of her. She wanted to go back and thank her, for having kept her warm, for having taken care of the newborn child that was later to become her daughter. She wanted to thank her for having made Natalie happy, at last…

She recalled another element about the night in which her hopes had been restored. An element that was always around her, whether she like it or not. House. _'What are you gonna do?'_

He was standing next to her, observing her every movement, and her reply had hurt him somehow. He knew that the baby immediately created a barrier between them. The crazy relationship they had shared for years would have to change. Maybe not drastically… but Gregory House was not fond of changes, even if they were minimal. That was, she thought, the reason of his insistence upon her quitting the idea of adopting Rachel.

Sometimes, when she looked at her little girl, she'd feel a slight pang of guilt, a horrible sensation of emptiness and evil, even. She couldn't believe she had considered the idea of giving up on her. She kept telling herself she had come up with that insane idea out of tiredness, out of fear, but she still couldn't reconcile with it. Had she been afraid of changes as well?

Her daughter's voice shook her awake from her reverie.

'Mommy, can we go home now?'

* * *

**A/N:** I decided the birthday party could wait a bit. I was not in the right mood for writing it. Finishing this chapter took me a while, I'm sorry. I've been busy and uninspired for DAYS. Thanks a lot for your kind reviews and for pointing out some grammar mistakes I made. I really appreciate it: correcting them improves the quality of my writing.

So, did you like this chapter? Review and tell me :) :)

_**P.S.:**_ I've finished The Gun Seller a couple of days ago and I loved it! Hugh Laurie is a very accomplished writer: he has a good writing rhythm (I don't know how to explain it) and the main character is very, very entertaining and has a very peculiar sense of humour which made me laugh out loud SEVERAL times. So, all in all, I'm seriously considering the idea of starting a religion for worshipping Hugh Laurie. He's just too amazing: he is a great actor, a great writer and a great musician. He's incredibly witty and funny, he seems to be a good father and caring husband, he has a Cambridge degree and he is dashingly handsome. Wanna join in?


	6. Past Tense

**Past tense**

'He isn't coming, is he?' Cuddy inquired and her voice trembled slightly. The variation in her tone would have passed unnoticed by a stranger, but James Wilson did not qualify as one. Over the years, he had become one of her (if not her) closest friends. In fact, he was like the big brother she never had: he took care of her and Rachel on a daily basis; he was always there when a family crisis cropped up and he had gleefully accepted being called Uncle James, with the occasional variation of Jimmy, by the little girl. In that exact moment, Wilson had stopped by in order to greet Rachel on her birthday before heading for PPTH: he was the definition of a caring uncle, and he and Rachel were not even related.

'I tried _everything_ in my power,' he explained, somehow ashamed of not having been able to accomplish his mission.

'I know you did,' Cuddy smiled thankfully and patted his upper arm, ignoring the lump that was currently forming in her throat. 'I don't know what I expected,' she chuckled bitterly.

'Don't say that,' Wilson said sympathetically, raising his eyebrows. 'I _know_ he cares,' he added. He was not being kind because he didn't want to hurt Cuddy's feelings. He was speaking with conviction, firmly believing his own words. He knew House was in love with Cuddy, and he had known it for years. He knew he cared for Rachel. And every rejected invitation confirmed it. His refusal to enter Lisa's and Rachel's life formally did nothing but prove he cared for the two Cuddy girls. It was the same thing he had done with Stacy all those years ago, when she had announced she'd leave her husband. Push her away so that he would not hurt her—but with Cuddy, it wasn't that easy, because she was always around, and so was Rachel. 'Don't look at me like I said something stupid!' He exclaimed in response to the way Cuddy was gazing at him. 'I have evidence.'

'Oh, really?' Cuddy replied sarcastically, not buying it.

'Remember the summer when Rachel was three and she got sick and we thought it could be meningitis?'

Cuddy nodded, a shiver running down her spine as she recalled the incident. After the lumbar puncture Chase performed confirmed Rachel was not ill with meningitis (she was in fact suffering from food poisoning by something she had eaten at a garden party) she had spent two days connected to an IV because she was dangerously dehydrated. She remembered House calling her an idiot for having overreacted like that. He said he knew it was food poisoning from the start, and refused to acknowledge Cuddy was acting rationally. He said he was being overprotective and that she'd ruin her daughter's life… nothing overly nice.

'Yes, what about that?'

'Lisa, he was out of his mind. He'd have performed the LP himself, had Chase not stopped him…trust me, it was a fearsome sight to behold.' He meant every word. House's insanity had reached new levels on that hot summer day more than three years ago.

Cuddy was silent for a while; processing all the information that mere anecdote had given her. She couldn't believe House had treated her so horribly when he had been that worried...well, she could believe it. It was so House like. But she was tired. Tired of waiting for him to act like a human being, of sitting around hoping he would speak his mind at once. It was too early in the morning for this discussion… she almost regretted having asked Wilson if he had persuaded House.

'Think about it,' Wilson rose from the chair in which he had been sitting and walked around Cuddy's kitchen table until he was standing next to her. She looked up from the cup of coffee she was drinking in order to look at him, emotions that he easily read written in her eyes. 'Just…think about it, okay? Maybe _you_ should tell him you want him to come.'

Cuddy sighed and smiled at her friend with composure—but her mental state resembled a rollercoaster.

'Now, where's the birthday girl?' Wilson asked cheerfully.

'She's still not up yet,' Cuddy grabbed her coffee mug and sipped at it, the hot liquid warming up her throat, a very pleasant sensation, especially when it was freezing outside.

'Is is that early?' Wilson checked his watch rapidly, frowning quizzically. He realised it was indeed really early in the morning. 'Sorry.'

'It's OK, I was wide awake when you arrived,' she smiled. 'You want some coffee?'

* * *

'Mommy, you bought a _piano_?!' Rachel exclaimed, awe and delight imprinted on her smiling face, as she jumped up and down frenetically, eyes wide. She had woken up ten minutes ago and walked towards the kitchen sleepily wrapped in her flannel pink pyjamas, at the precise instant in which

Cuddy had decided her daughter ought to be awoken.

She began to inspect the instrument from every possible angle, lips pursed, frowning in concentration as she ran her hand across its wooden surface. 'Wow! Thank you!'

'You like it?' Cuddy smiled, already knowing the answer to the question.

'I _love_ it!' Rachel threw herself into the expectant arms of her mother. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you…' She kissed her mother's cheek repeatedly. 'Can I practise now, please?'

Cuddy kissed the crown of her daughter's blonde head and shook her head.

'You have to get dressed and then we'll have breakfast together… we'll practise together tonight. Your uncle James is here.' Rachel grinned. 'Guess what we are having for breakfast.'

'Mmmm,' the little girl brought her index to her chin 'Candy?'

'Nope,' Cuddy shook her head again.

'Marsh mellows?' She tried again.

'Not even close.'

'I know! Pancakes!' She screamed in delight. 'Where's Uncle James?'

'Kitchen, but you have to get dressed first, remember.'

Rachel rolled her eyes. 'Okay mommy.'

Cuddy patted her head tenderly; Rachel's curls soft to the touch. 'Happy birthday.'

* * *

'Can I come in?' Cuddy asked rather shyly, leaning against the doorframe. House was sitting on the edge of his desk, his bad leg partially stretched out, chucking one of his oversized tennis balls carelessly and then promptly catching it. He shrugged, carrying on his chuck and catch activity, not uttering a word.

She entered the room and paced towards the diagnostician. He wasn't making eye contact with her. They hadn't spoken much since the 'I am her husband' incident, and if someone had stepped in in that precise moment, they would have been able to sense the tension in the room. It had been years since they had had a relaxed conversation.

'You need something?' House blurted out in his usual rough manner, not meeting her eyes once, his gaze focused on his hands after he placed the ball on the table.

Cuddy looked down, wondering how to ask him what she wanted to without making a fool of herself. It wasn't and it would never be an easy task, so she might as well give it a try and stop worrying about the consequences of her words. It was too late for that. She was already there.

'I…' She gathered some courage and looked up, her warm blue green eyes that had gotten even warmer than before after nearly six years of motherhood meeting his cold stare. 'I want you to come to Rachel's birthday party tomorrow.' There: done.

House looked away for a fraction of a moment, then turned to Cuddy, curiosity lighting up his gaze and features.

'Why do you ask? I already told your lap dog, who also responds to the name of Wilson, that I'm not coming.'

Cuddy mumbled and barely audible 'Okay' that sounded strongly to disappointment.

'And you don't want me there,' House added.

'Rachel wants you there, House,' Cuddy replied, mentally kicking herself for using her daughter's desires as a shield for her own feelings. 'I don't know why, but she likes you. And you can deny it all you want,' Cuddy brushed imaginary hair out of her forehead 'but you like her too.'

'Yeah, right,' House's voice was filled with sarcasm and stared at her as if she had said a most amusing thing.

'House, you help her with her homework. All the time.'

'Because she wouldn't leave me alone. I can't blame her, you are her mother after all…and you were the one who told her she could bug me whenever she wanted to.' He narrowed his eyes.

'She writes about you in her log book, House,' she proceeded to enumerate her reasons.

'Unrequited love, Cuddles.' Cuddy sent him a death glare when he used the nickname she detested so much.

'So was your unrequited love what made her say she wanted you to be her father?'

'I would have agreed to father your child, had she been conceived…in the old fashioned way.' He waggled his eyebrows suggestively while Cuddy judged whether killing him would make a prison term worthy. She decided it wouldn't, but she could always slap him or punch him… or just ignore his stupid remarks and get on with her life. But that was easily said than done.

'That was almost flattering,' she chose to poke fun of his words, giggling. House smirked, and for a brief instant, Cuddy thought he would say yes. They were now facing each other. His eyes showed something she could only describe as vulnerability— a soft glow that deepened the confines of his deep blue eyes, and they were no longer cold and bitter. More than once she had caught him staring at Rachel with that same expression of warmness, tenderness… she always thought she was the only one who noticed it because it was a glimpse of his old self, the one that only Cuddy knew. Not even Wilson knew that side of him. He wouldn't have been able to identify that special gaze.

She would always see House in the past. Like a black and white movie. Even when he was a true asshole, she would always manage to find a way to forgive him. She loved him. Or she had loved him. It didn't make any difference.

She was about to ask him again, lips parting before the words came out, when he said. 'I'm not goiing, Cuddy.' And his voice was painfully honest, and she knew he had meant it, she knew he'd not come unless he experienced a sudden change of heart while sitting in front of his piano, with a nearly empty glass of scotch nestling in his hand. She knew Rachel would be disappointed.

Cuddy had been disappointed for a long time.

She smiled sadly. 'Rachel loved the piano. Thank you.' Timidly, she rested her own hand against his shoulder, a gesture of affection that did not quite qualify as a caress, but could be mistaken by one by an ordinary viewer. He brushed it away swiftly.

House stared at his feet, feeling somewhat nervous. 'You're welcome.'

'I have to pick Rachel up; I promised her I would. Just… wish her a happy birthday if she comes to see you.' House nodded, and Cuddy spun around rapidly and made her way in the direction of the door.

House watched her retreating figure. Yes, he admitted to himself, in a screwed up way, he cared for the kid. If anyone threatened to harm her, he'd be the first one to defend her… and that was saying a lot.

He recalled a certain episode a few years ago, when Rachel was three or four and Cuddy had brought her to the hospital because the nanny had called in sick. She had left the runt under Wilson's care, his office being the only place were she thought Rachel would be safe. But the oncologist had been paged to the ER, and House was left alone with the little brat. She was playing calmly, and House was feeling incredibly sleepy and decided he could take a nap. But somehow Rachel managed to fall from the couch, ending up with a nasty cut on her right knee from colliding with the sharp edge of the table. She had fought back the tears bravely whilst he inspected the wound, but finally gave in. Tears streamed down her face as he scooped her up in his arms and took her to the clinic, where a small bandage and an antiseptic solution were applied promptly.

House, knowing the accident that had occurred when he was supposed to look after the kid would piss his boss off, made a pact of silence with Rachel. In fact, their pact resembled a treaty. He even wrote the clauses on a piece of paper and made her do a drawing, so that he could prove she had "signed" it. She told Cuddy she had tripped when she was walking with him towards her office… and Cuddy did not suspect anything, or did not show she suspected her daughter's story was not true.

The sheet of paper was now folded and stored in the back of his sock drawer, for future reference.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, it took me forever to update. I hope you liked the chapter and keep posting your lovely reviews. They make me happy. I'll be writing about Rachel's birthday party soon. I'm working on a few drafts, but I'm still not convinced. SUGGESTIONS are really, really welcomed!

Love you all.


	7. Secret keeping

**Secret keeping**

Fifteen little children running free all over her living room. Her sister and her condescending attitude. Her mother criticising Rachel's fatherless upbringing. A few mothers she had barely talked to at school meetings and plays to whom she had to pay attention to. Cuddy thought the situation would drive her nuts… thank _God_ for Wilson and Cameron. She was supervising the children, while Wilson assured Ruth Cuddy her granddaughter's life was not missing father figures.

Cuddy smiled and returned to the dining room, where Amy's, Emma's and Olivia's mother where sitting, sipping at their teas, waiting for her to join in the conversation.

"There's Robert Chase, that blonde guy over there," Wilson pointed at the young doctor, who was making conversation with Cuddy's brother-in-law enthusiastically. They were probably talking about women or sports, judging from the way Michael was patting his back, with a strength that threatened to tear the Australian apart. Ruth did not seem very convinced. 'There's Foreman, Kutner and Taub, who weren't able to make it today. And of course, me, and House.' He finished the listing with an earnest boyish grin. He had pretty much enumerated all the hospital staff that truly cared for Rachel.

'House? You mean Gregory House?' Ruth Cuddy arched an eyebrow and Wilson wondered if he had said something wrong. He rubbed his forehead worriedly.

And then, it hit him. Of course Cuddy's parents had met the infamous diagnostician before. They had probably met him when he was still at Michigan and dating Cuddy, and House had asked Ruth for the desk a few years ago.

'Yes,' Wilson replied, not sure of how her friend's mother liked his best friend. He stuck to the one syllable words.

'You know, I always though he and Lisa would, you know,' she added in a low whisper and drew closer '_formalise_.'

'Oh, I see,' Wilson replied, doing his best not to laugh. He couldn't believe Cuddy's mother did not completely disapprove of House. He had expected a waterfall of insults and instead he got the feeling that Ruth was quite fond of the grumpy doctor in medicine. Life was full of surprises.

'He used to tutor her, you know? When they were studying at Michigan… She'd always write to Julie about this incredibly handsome and smart man who helped her with some subjects…' Wilson realised he was getting the piece of information his best friend had never revealed. How they had met, exactly. In detail. All he had gotten when he asked was a dry 'I was her tutor, Jimmy boy'. He felt like he was spying on Lisa and House. 'They started dating and he stayed with us during the winter holidays.' Ruth paused for a moment, wondering whether continuing with the story would annoy her daughter. She didn't want to argue with her during Rachel's birthday, but James Wilson had been proved a decent secret keeper. 'I have to admit, he was a very odd young man, but I never disliked him. She was in love with him, and I think that feeling hasn't changed.'

Wilson was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? He knew Cuddy loved House, and he knew House loved (in his own words, _like_) Cuddy, and he also knew his two friends were too proud and dysfunctional to confess to their feelings for each other. He could definitely see them becoming a 'thing', a couple. They were already some sort of institution. They belonged together. The paths of their lives seemed to have been designed to converge at one point or another. They had fooled their fate for too long…

If only House could act like a decent human being.

'Well, you know House. He is… complicated,' Wilson smiled awkwardly, hoping the Gossip Girl session would stop soon.

'I've been told so. But I'm telling you, the man who asked me for Lisa's old desk was nothing but a man in love.'

'Who is in love?' Ruth and Wilson looked down and found a frowning Rachel staring at them inquisitively. Wilson made a mental note to get her a lollipop for her great timing.

'No one you know, sweetie,' Mrs Cuddy patted her granddaughter's head tenderly and smiled awkwardly at Wilson.

Rachel pulled an 'I don't buy it' face and turned to Wilson.

'Is House coming?' She asked expectantly, a big grin plastered on her face, tugging at her Uncle James' shirt sleeve.

'He was very busy today, I don't think he is going to make it,' Wilson lied. He felt awful when Rachel's beam was replaced by a disappointed look, though it wasn't really his fault… whatever, he felt horrible nonetheless.

'If you see him, tell him he can't call me kid anymore. I'm six now,' she explained gravely, the smile slowly returning to her freckled face.

'Don't worry, I'll let him know,' he winked his left eye and gazed fondly at the little girl as she returned to the living room. 'Excuse me,' Wilson said to Ruth and made his way towards the table were Cuddy was sitting.

* * *

Cuddy could see him. Imagine him, sitting in front of his piano, his calloused hands making their way across the pearly, smooth surface of his perfectly tuned piano's keys.

Those same hands would grab (or had already grabbed) a glass of Scotch. He'd twirl the glass in his hand, small waves of amber tapping against the crystal walls like tiny tawny waves.

He'd then gulped the drink down, along with two pills. The combination would leave a sore flavour in his mouth, the same flavour she had tasted years ago. The recollection was blurred, vague almost. It had been parte of a surreal dream in which House had gone all the way from his home for the sole purpose of comforting her, in which House demonstrated affection in a nearly normal way… in which the two of them finally gave in to their desires.

She hated herself for wasting her time thinking about House. House, of all people. Her little girl was turning six. She should be exulting, in high spirits. Instead, she was thinking about the one man who hadn't reply to her honest invitation and she could barely answer to the easy questions Mary, Katherine and Liz were asking her.

She was hopeless.

Somehow, Wilson had ended up next to her and was gently tapping on her shoulder. He was surrounded by that halo of kindness that always seemed to enfold him. Even the married woman (Mary and Liz) sitting with her found him charming. She could see it in her eyes and overly flushed cheeks.

'Lisa, I'll be back in a minute. I've… forgotten something.' He took a look around and smiled at Mary, Katherine and Liz. 'How do you do?' He asked politely, employing his most charming tone.

Cuddy looked up at him, confused. What had he possibly forgotten? He had already given Rachel the gift he had chosen for her, he had picked up the cake from the baker's store… nothing was missing. She decided not to ask: after all, he was the one who claimed he had left something behind, so he surely wasn't inventing it.

'Fine, but hurry up or you will be late for the cake.'

'Don't worry,' he assured her while grabbing his coat from the back of one of the chairs. 'I wouldn't miss it for _the world_.' He smiled and put his overcoat on. Cuddy handed him a set of keys, glaring at him suspiciously.

'Don't worry, Lisa. It's nothing… really.' He uttered anxiously, taking hold of the keys. He then proceeded to make his way towards the door.

'Who is that man?' Katherine asked, positively infatuated. She had gone through a terrible divorce two years ago, when Emma was only four. She and Lisa had become more or less friends.

'That's James Wilson, head of Oncology and a good friend.'

'He's cute,' Katherine added.

'He's a great guy. He's done a lot for me and Rachel. Rachel calls him Uncle James and all,' Cuddy explained, amused at her friend's interest. She often forgot how charming Wilson could be, since she took his good nature _and_ good looks for granted.

* * *

'House!' Wilson tapped the wooden door impatiently with a closed fist. 'Open up, I know you are in there.' He could hear a soft piano melody, so his friend was obviously in the very premises of his home, refusing to recognise it. The tune ceased abruptly.

House was getting on Wilson's nerves. It was a fairly common occurrence, but the fact that he really could have strangled him if he were to be in front of him was not that usual.

He knocked again with greater strength and called out to him. Silence was the only reply he got.

'Damn it, House!' He yelled, out of breath.

'Use your key, you idiot,' House's mocking voice reached his ears.

'There's something called privacy I like to respect, you know,' he replied, fumbling for the key. He secretly congratulated himself for not going out of his own home without the keys to House's apartment.

'You've seen me pee, Wilson,' the diagnostician shouted as he entered the flat. 'What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Cuddy's acting all nice and lovely?' He was sitting on the piano stool, an empty glass in front of him. Wilson closed the door and paced towards the musical instrument.

'Yes. Grab your coat. You're coming.'

House chuckled and rose from the stool, rubbing his leg, and scowled. 'Yeah, right,' he dismissed Wilson, leaning over in order to pick up his cane, which he had placed next to the piano.

'I mean it,' Wilson put his hands to his hips in a Superman fashion. 'I'm not moving until you agree to come with me.'

'In that case you are stuck here for life, old pal.' He headed for the bathroom.

Thoughts about going back to Rachel's party and giving up on House crossed his mind, but he then recalled the sadness and disappointment in Rachel's gaze. He was not going to let House ruin her birthday. Because he knew damn well that Rachel wanted him there. For some reason he couldn't explain, Rachel loved House: too much for her own good.

'House, if you are planning on flushing yourself away, it's not gonna work.'

The diagnostician stepped out of the bathroom.

'What do you care?'

'House, _she _wants you there,' Wilson threw his hands in the air, exasperated. 'Can you please grab your coat and follow me to the car?'

House shook his head. 'Nope,' he answered.

'For better or for worse, you're a part of Rachel's life,' he pointed at him. 'And don't even try to deny it, because it's a fact.'

'I might be a part of her life, but she's not a part of _my_ life.' He looked down and away from Wilson. He was lying and Wilson knew it. The folded piece of paper on the back of his sock drawer agreed with the oncologist.

'Stop lying to yourself! House, I've seen you with her.' Wow, were they really talking about the younger Cuddy? 'Now grab your damn coat and follow me to the car.' He resumed, not willing to push the conversation too far. He was nearly shouting and he had said all the things he considered significant.

'Nope,' House replied, not losing his composure. 'I don't want to,' he lied, again. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Cuddy would be there, staring at him with those melancholic eyes, those eyes that always questioned him, as if asking 'What if…?' If he showed Cuddy he cared for her little girl, she'd get her hopes up, and would be devastated when she realised he was not the man he was looking for. Everything would be out on the open, and she'd end up hurt.

He didn't want that to happen. Lisa Cuddy was one of his best friends, though he'd never admit it, and trying something other than that with her could end up on him losing her. And he couldn't afford that. Not only she signed his pay checks, but she had been there for him when he had needed someone the most. The infarction, the time when that crazy Moriarty guy shot him, the deep brain stimulation…

If those feeling were to be expressed, then they would become real. Existing. And real, existing things are the only ones that can break.

'I'll give you five minutes to change your mind,' Wilson spoke up.

* * *

**A/N:** Cliffie! Sorry it took me so long to update. I hope you liked the chapter; I promise there'd be more Rachel in the near future. I think Cuddy's mother came out as a pretty cool character. What do you think?

**REVIEWS ARE LOVED.**

OH, and who else loved the little compliment House paid to Cuddy in _The Social Contract_?


	8. No way back

**No way back**

Wilson stared at his watch impatiently. House was surely taking his time to brood over his options…

The oncologist really wished he'd come. He was tired of seeing his best friend retreat into his private space of bitterness and misery, were no one else was allowed. He was tired of him pretending not to care about anyone, when he knew damn well he did. Rachel had shown him her log books, and all the stuff she had written about her _friend_ House.

He then recalled that kid patient, Adam, who had first made eye contact with House. Not his father, not his mother. House. How can a misanthropic bastard provoke such a reaction in an autistic kid? The boy had even given his doctor his PSP, which his parents swore was his most treasured possession. Wilson knew the garment had broken down years ago, but he still kept it, hidden, were no one would look for it. Except for Wilson, who knew his best friend too well to buy the careless show he persisted to put on. Kids trusted him and liked him, because he never tried too hard. Plus, he never lied to them or said they were too little to understand something.

Wilson leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

'Grandpa?' Rachel inquired, staring at her tall grandfather quizzically. 'Where's mommy?'

Joseph Cuddy, who was chatting animatedly to Chase and Cameron somewhere near the living room, stared at her grandkid with a smile plastered on his wrinkled face. 'She's in the dining room, little rabbit,' he replied, patting the girl's head gently. 'Why aren't you playing with your friends and cousins?'

'I got bored,' Rachel shrugged and grinned apologetically.

Chase and Cameron shared a knowing glance and smiled amusedly. Rachel's nature made her susceptible to boredom easily when she wasn't alone. She had an overactive, vivid imagination, but she knew she was not supposed to retreat into her own private world when she had company.

'But you can't leave your friends alone,' Joseph warned her.

'I know. It's just… people are boring. Sometimes,' she explained casually before running away in order to find Cuddy.

'That's one weird little girl, huh?' The old man let out a chuckle.

Sometimes, the two young doctors could have sworn Rachel was House's kid.

* * *

'Mommy, where's Uncle James?' Rachel inquired gravely, causing Cuddy to twist her neck in order to able to see her. She was standing beside her chair and was grabbing a chocolate cookie from the table without permission. The girl examined the cookie thoroughly, with surgical precision, before nibbling on it.

'Oh, he forgot something at home. He'll be back in a minute,' Cuddy replied. Rachel nodded, her mouth full of chocolate.

'What did he forget?' Rachel asked after finishing with her cookie.

'I don't know, sweetie. But he'll be back, don't worry, okay? Go play with your friends.' The rest of the mums smiled encouragingly.

'Is House coming?' She repeated the question casually while examining her short fingernails.

'I don't think so,' Cuddy answered tensely, sensing a tantrum might be on its way. Rachel was not prone to lose her temper, but her mother could see in her eyes that she was tired and probably mildly bored… those were not good things. 'But we don't know yet, do we?'

Rachel shook her head, and Cuddy watched with relief she was smiling again. The youngster ran away from the dining room in the direction of the living room.

'Who's House?' asked Mary.

'One of my employees. Head of Diagnostics,' Cuddy explained casually, but the sudden reddening in her cheeks told her friends there was something more to it. Cuddy mentally slapped her autonomic nervous system. She looked down, embarrassed, and Katherine, Mary and Liz knew better than to ask about that House guy. 'Rachel is very fond of him,' she finished, still staring at the floor. She had already memorised the wooden pattern.

'Really?' Katherine couldn't help herself. She just had to ask.

'We don't understand why,' she chuckled quietly, her face still slightly blushed. 'He's a misanthropic, self destructive bastard, but Rachel loves him.'

'Well, maybe he is not that bad. Children can be quite perceptive. Before my ex husband and I split up, Emma was the first one to notice something wasn't right… I mean, she knew it before he even brought the subject up. Every night, when Charles was, or so he said, working late at the office, she would ask me if her daddy was coming home. I didn't understand why she'd be so obsessed with it…' She glanced at Lisa, trying to read her expression. 'So, maybe Rachel sees something in him. Something no one else can see.'

Something no one else can see. Exactly. Cuddy knew the feeling too well. She felt her cheeks burning again.

'Maybe,' she mumbled, wishing Kate would change the subject at last. See stood up and exited the room quickly, claiming she was going to make some more tea.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, when Wilson was beginning to worry, the door to the 221 B flat opened up abruptly, revealing a decently dressed House who even smelled like cologne and fresh soap. Silently, they headed for Wilson's car in a semi slow pace.

'I _knew_ it,' Wilson smiled almost arrogantly, against his own will. He regretted when House stared at him like he wanted to strangle him with his own hands.

'Shut up,' the diagnostician spoke up in a grumpy voice, but didn't clarify the reason for his sudden change of heart. Which meant him, Wilson, had been right all along. 'I know about 17 of your muscles are about to contract in order to form that beautiful smile of yours…again' he added sarcastically. Wilson pretended he didn't know what his best friend was talking about and raised his eyebrows in fake confusion.'Oh, don't play dummy. I can feel it. Don't do it, unless you want me to perform a colonoscopy with my cane on you.'

Wilson rolled his eyes and chuckled. He then threw his hands in the air and said through a sigh. 'If that's what it takes…'

'I mean it. Shut up,' House hissed, the grip on his cane tightening. If he had been any other person in the whole wide world, Wilson was sure House'd have blushed. Yes, blushed.

'Oh, House,' he replied in a mockingly cheesy voice. 'You don't have to be embarrassed.'

'I am not embarrassed,' House murmured, getting himself into the companion seat with a painful wince and slamming the door shut violently. He stared blankly at the road.

He was not embarrassed. He was scared. What if he ruined everything? Wilson started the engine and within seconds they were on the road, tension floating in the air around him. It was a cold afternoon, and his breath turned into water steam whenever he exhaled next to the car windows. He was drawing figures on it, his index tracing a lazy pattern of lines and circles, when Wilson's voice startled him.

'Care to explain why Cuddy's mom _likes_ you?' He asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

'Curiosity killed the oncologist,' House muttered through gritted teeth.

'Seriously, House. The woman thinks you are wonderful. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you put the moves on her…' He laughed to himself earnestly, meeting House severe stare. 'Oh please, tell me you haven't…'

'She was hot 25 years ago, Jimmy boy.'

'I'm going to be sick,' was Wilson's revolted reply. His face had turned an ugly shade of green. 'You are disgusting. I don't why I even talk to you.'

'I bailed you out of jail. You owe me.'

'Seriously, House, Cuddy's mom…' Wilson ignored House's remark.

'Oh, relax. I was lying.' He sat back on the passenger's seat smirking. Freaking Wilson out was way too amusing.

'Why is it that I'm not even surprised…' Wilson rolled his eyes. 'I haven't forgotten my question.'

'I know,' House retorted. 'And I'm choosing to ignore it. That's the cool thing about living in a free country.' Wilson sighed.

'_Mom, this is Greg. Gregory House__,' Cuddy had said in a pleasant voice, as she tightened the grip on her hand and welcomed him into her house._

'_Gregory, how are you doing?' Ruth smiled and took the hand House was offering, and gave it a light shook. He was slightly surprised at that formal gesture. _

'_Not bad. How about you?' He had asked almost agreeably. Ruth could tell he was making a colossal effort._

'_Oh, I'm doing great. Lisa, would you show him around while I finish my cooking?'_

'I'll find out, eventually.'

'_Her old desk? Why would you want it?' Ruth inquired, utterly puzzled. Some random janitor from the hospital was calling her at home asking for Lisa's Med School desk? Something wasn't right. _

'_You know, she requested it,' House replied, masking his own voice by making it slightly high-pitched. _

'_There's no way I'm giving it out to a complete stranger,' Cuddy's mum retorted curtly. 'It has sentimental value.'_

_House smirked, already knowing the answer to his next question.__ 'And why would that be? She asked me to call you.'_

'_Why wouldn't she call?' _

'_You know, she's very busy with all that… serious administrative stuff. As you may know, she's the Dean of Medicine. The crazy bitch around here.'_

'_Of course I know she is the Dean, _Gregory_.' _

'_Oh crap,' House cursed. 'How did you notice?'_

'_The bitch part gave you away,' Ruth chortled, far from shocked. Bad words were not really intimidating after having a son and a husband. You became impervious to them. 'How are you?'_

Lost in his thoughts, he did not realise his best friend was already parking outside Cuddy's home. When the realisation hit him, he wished he could just step out of the car and run away from it all.

The cold air hit his face as they got off the vehicle, his cheeks and nose turning red and stinging under the frozen wind.

As they made their way towards the front door, muffled sounds of children laughter reached their ears. House walked in an impossibly slow pace. Wilson knew he was doing it on purpose.

'Walking like a sedated snail won't get you out of this, House.'

'I'm insulted. I'm a _cripple_. I walk slowly. And I thought you were my best friend,' he retorted, mock offense drenching his voice.

'Yeah, right,' he chortled as they reached the stairs that led to Cuddy's house. 'We're here.' He fumbled for his set of keys and stuck the right one inside the lock. He remained in the shadows.

'Wilson! Finally!' They were not even inside the house when he heard Cuddy's voice calling out to the oncologist. 'What had you forgotten?'

House heard Wilson swallow and mumble incoherent words, at a loss for the accurate ones.

'Him,' he managed to say, grabbing House by the forearm and dragging him inside Cuddy's home.

He was screwed.

There was no way back now.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, yes, I'm so totally mean (that doesn't even make sense, does it?) I make you wait for a long time for a new chapter and then I cut it short when House finally arrives at Rachel's birthday party… I hope you enjoyed it.

First of all, I would like to apologise for this late update. It's been _weeks_ since I last uploaded a chapter. I was working non-stop on a Natasha Richardson tribute (if you loved her as I did-and still do-you can check it out at my YouTube account, .com/undermilkwoods) and then my college time began and, being a freshman, I'm kinda scared and want to keep my grades up (I've always been a straight A student and pretty severe on myself) so I had to do a lot of reading.

About this chapter: I always thought the desk thing shouldn't have been left unexplained… so I came up with my own explanation : ) It will be developed throughout the following chapters. Oh, and I threw in some Mister Cuddy snippets. I confess I stole the nickname he uses for Rachel from Richard Yates _The Easter Parade_. Little rabbit. It's just too cute.

Anyway, that's pretty much it. Oh, and I'm planning on starting a new HouseCuddyRachel story (LOL, I've become addicted to those three). Rachel will be about three or four in the story. It shall be up in a few days, so if you like my writing, check it out.

Oh, and please keep posting your lovely reviews. They make me extremely happy.

P.S.: *****SPOILERS FOR LOCKED IN*** **Wasn't it adorable how House sort of leaned into Cuddy's touch when she was examining his face? I was like Awwww. And when Cuddy turned around to stare at him…

Hahaha, please David and Katie. We need more Huddy scenes!


	9. A little bit

**Chapter 9-A little bit  
**

Cuddy's eyes widened in surprise and she froze on the spot were she was standing. House was staring at her intently, his cobalt eyes firmly fixed on her, forcing her to look away. She felt feeble under the magnetic power of his gaze.

'Wow Cuddles, I thought you'd be thrilled that I finally got my ass dragged to this ridiculous party,' he commented sarcastically, gesturing towards the colourful balloons that decorated the house. Wilson couldn't help but notice how he was not taking responsibility for his actions. He hadn't say _I finally dragged_...

Maybe forcing him to attend had been a bad idea. But then again, it hadn't been strictly his idea. Wilson gave him five minutes, he decided he'd go. If House had given him a good reason for not coming to the party, he would have left and pretended he had actually forgotten something.

Cuddy, despite herself, felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He was there. That meant he cared. That meant he had actually listened to her when they had addressed the subject. She was _not_ going to let him make her feel uncomfortable at her daughter's birthday party. His soul-penetrating stare was not going to make her feel stupid or out of place.

She realised she had still not replied to his comment. 'Give me your coat,' she smiled widely, catching House off-guard. He had expected something less friendly than an invitation to join in the party.

Of course, he knew Cuddy wanted him there, but he had played a sufficient amount of mind games for her to be pissed out of her mind and kick him out of her house violently. But there she was, asking him for his coat. He took it off and without even folding it, threw it away on her direction.

She caught it promptly; self-satisfaction glowing in her eyes, and took the chance to gaze at him.

He was decently dressed. His shirt was ironed, and so were his trousers. His hair was slightly combed. He smelled of cologne and fresh soap.

"Your clothes are ironed…. Should I be scared?"

"That depends,' He took a few steps on her direction. "Are you afraid of a gentleman?"

Both Wilson and Cuddy laughed at his remark.

"I'm gonna go find Rachel…" The oncologist cleared his throat before he spoke. He knew he needed to leave so that his two friends could have a conversation about what had just happened. The conversation would probably consist in Cuddy being nice and House being a stubborn ass, but it was a sort of ritual that could not be avoided.

"Okay," Cuddy whispered, folding House's coat and locking her gaze with his. Wilson walked away from the entrance hall, laughing to himself. It was so obvious, and yet they couldn't see it…

* * *

"Liar," Cuddy accused him when they were inches away from each other.

"What?"

"You lied to me."

"I did _not_…" House began to protest but was cut off by Cuddy. She placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed it softly.

"Why are you here?"

"You saw it. Wilson forced me. He said he'd tell everyone at the hospital I still wet my bed."

"I thought Wilson was the one who still wets his bed,' replied Cuddy, quite playfully.

"Yes, he's a snitch _and_ a liar." House began to make his way towards the living room, but was stopped by Cuddy, who grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to spin around and look at her. They almost collided with each other.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Shut up," he snapped, feeling uncomfortable with the small display of affection but not brushing her hand away.

"Behave, or I will say it every two seconds,' she tried to joke, but realised her hand was still placed around his bicep. She quickly removed it, her cheeks reddening so subtly she was sure House hadn't noticed.

"I always behave," he retorted ironically, knowing his statement was far from the truth and pacing in the direction of the living room. His back was now to Cuddy.

"House!" She called out, using the bossy manner she reserved solely for him, but he made no reply.

Chaos would ensue; Cuddy knew it in her heart.

* * *

Before House was able to stop her, Rachel had run on his direction and hugged his legs.

"You came," she smiled widely and House found himself patting her head awkwardly in a gesture that was almost tender. Cuddy and Wilson were watching the scene from the doorframe with stupid wide grins plastered on their faces.

"Yep," he replied. "Unfortunately." He added in a loud voice so that Cuddy would listen. She did and sent him a severe glare from where she was standing.

"Thanks for helping mommy with the piano,' Rachel spotted another smile, looking up at him with admiration.

And there it was: that inexplicable warmness that takes hold of him sometimes when he was with Rachel or Cuddy… He couldn't control it. He knew this would have to end before he did, or say, something he'd regret later.

Crap. Maybe he _did_ have a soft spot for the runt.

"Why don't you go play Twister with your friends?" He suggested almost nicely gesticulating towards the bunch of young children who were trying to play the game, with disastrous consequences.

"I was playing. Then I got bored. I wanted to talk to you," she explained sincerely.

"You already did. Now scram," He accompanied his words with a 'get lost' gesture that would have made a less cheerful Rachel shed tears.

"You're mean," Rachel stared at him crossly and took a step back.

"Very. Now go, go," House commanded, using his cane to point at the children.

"Are you what Uncle James forgot?" Rachel inquired before joining her friends.

House made no answer.

"Is that doctor House?" Emma asked when Rachel sat on the floor next to her, legs crossed.

"Yes, why?"

"Is he crazy?"

"A little bit," Rachel shrugged and stared at the diagnostician as he made paced towards the spot were her mother and uncle were standing.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the extreme… shortness of this chapter. I wrote it a couple of days ago and I was going to write a bit more but inspiration wouldn't come… so, here it is. I didn't want to keep you waiting. I guess the next chapter will contain more Huddyness and House-Cuddy's family awkwardness.

Thanks for you reviews! Someone suggested I should read the Mia series… I hadn't read them before. And I realised there were a lot of similar elements between _Ours_ and my story. I swear I didn't copy any of it! It was a matter of coincidences: like I said, I hadn't read it until last night.

I also realised that, when it comes to House fics, there's always a little girl called Emma! Hahaha.

*****SPOILERS*****

Kutner, you'll be sorely missed. I want him back. OBAMA, GIVE US KUTNER BACK. He was my favourite new duckling :(. Though I realised I kinda like Thirteen now… which is weird, I used to hate her most fiercely, and all of a sudden, I don't think she's THAT bad… anyway, weird.

And APPARENTLY, there'll be LOTS of Huddy in Saviours! YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! I've seen the promos and I'm totally excited.


	10. Taken

**Chapter X-Taken**

"Why do you have to be like that? She's a kid, House," Wilson scolded him.

"I was nice to her. As nice as I could be," he defended himself.

"I guess that explains it all," Cuddy huffed. "As nice as you can be is your usual jerky self." She knew she was being unfair to him. He had been nice several times, to her and to Rachel. But who cared? She had put up with his antics for years; she was entitled to the right of insulting him when he didn't quite deserve it. Wilson seemed to agree with her, for he stayed silent and didn't offer his opinion.

"Would you at least feed me?" House inquired in a rough voice. "I came here, you might as well give me a cookie or, if you are in a very good mood, a Scotch." Cuddy eyed him gravely. If looks killed, House would have fallen to the floor to never wake up again.

"Cookie it is, then," Wilson chuckled at their interaction, shaking his head and moving away from his friends.

"A poisoned cookie," Cuddy mumbled between gritted teeth as the trio made his way towards the dining room.

"Oh Cuddy, don't be like that. This is a happy day," House exclaimed in a fake cheerful voice.

"I know. My mom can't wait to say hi to you," Cuddy smirked mischievously. She knew House and her mother had set up some sort of strange arrangement in the past. Desks don't walk on their own. And House and Ruth Cuddy had always gotten along incredibly well. She couldn't say the same thing about her father or even her sister… but her mom had definitely liked him, and much to Cuddy's dismay, she seemed to resent all the boyfriends that followed House simply because they weren't _him_. Cuddy would never have admitted it, but House certainly made a huge impact on her when she was young. All they guys she met after he left Michigan seemed dull and boring in comparison to the soon-to-be one of the top diagnosticians in the country. And truth be told, so were the ones she met after she left Michigan. And when she saw him again after all those years, the path of life having separated them on several occasions, she skipped more than one heartbeat. The presence of Stacy was a key factor: if she hadn't been there, Cuddy wouldn't have been able to act like the professional she was.

"Do I have to say hi to everyone?" House asked in a whiny voice.

"Yes," Cuddy replied curtly. "I'll introduce you to everyone and you'll act nice."

"Or what?"

"I'll send you to a conference about something boring. In Texas. You'll be supervised by Baxter from Paediatrics," Cuddy said menacingly. She knew House despised Baxter fiercely.

"But moooom!" He complained.

"No buts. Get in there and act like a decent human being." She stressed the word decent and raised her eyebrows. House huffed and stared at her, annoyed, before returning his gaze to the dining room. He suddenly stopped walking.

"Is that woman hitting on Wilson?" He inquired, pointing at Kate, who was currently sitting next to Wilson. He was gazing at her with that earnest expression that he reserved solely for those women who dared tell him about their dilemmas, his brown eyes glowing with compassion.

"I think she's telling him about her divorce," Cuddy explained, amused.

"That's the way you hit on Wilson. You tell him your life sucks and empty your soul," he chuckled." And then he wants to make your life all better."

"House, leave him alone. He needs to get laid," she said, before adding, "and so does she."

"And so do you," House smirked, eyeing at her suggestively. "I can help with that." It wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

"Shut up," Cuddy hissed. She didn't want her mother, father or sister overhearing that kind of conversation. "You're going in."

"In where?"

"The room, you moron," she gripped his arm tightly and dragged him in unceremoniously.

* * *

The situation itself was funny. Dozens of different coloured eyes stared at him curiously or surprised. Except for one pair of blue eyes that stared at him in a less than friendly way. Joseph Cuddy's eyes. There was an uncomfortable silence that Cuddy broke introducing him as Greg House. Her elbow collide with his left side when he didn't say anything. He quickly muttered an unfriendly "Hi."

"Gregory!" Ruth Cuddy walked towards House and engulfed him in an asphyxiating hug. Cuddy was way too amused to prevent her from making one of his lungs collapse.

"Hi," House was able to say.

Ruth pulled away and stared at the man she had met when he was barely on his twenties. "So, how _are_ you?"

"Fine, I guess. Oxygen deprived," he added matter-of-factly.

"Sorry about that. It's just… nice to see you are okay."

Okay. Cuddy wanted to scream he was most definitely not okay. Never was, never would be. She was almost angry at her mother. Had she even listened to all the stuff she had complained about? How many times had she been forced to abandon a family birthday because House had done something stupid? How many times had her mother called her and found she was about to suffer from a mental breakdown because House had done something incredibly stupid? She cleared her throat.

"Well, that's debatable," House replied, as if he had read Cuddy's silence.

"You look great. Don't listen to her," Ruth said jokingly.

"You see that Cuddy? Your mother thinks I look great."

"She's senile," Cuddy chuckled. Chase and Wilson had to suppress a smile. "I'm gonna make some coffee," she said, walking away from the room.

* * *

"So Lisa," Kate inquired, entering the kitchen and addressed Cuddy so out of the blue that she almost dropped the kettle she was holding.

"You scared me," she smiled, placing the kettle on the burner.

"Sorry about that. You need help?" She asked, noticing Cuddy was searching the kitchen's drawers.

"No, I'm just looking for the cookies," she explained with a wave of her hand. "James bought them and I don't know where he put them."

"Yes, about that. Do you need a secretary or something?"

Cuddy succeeded in finding the chocolate chip cookies. She then initiated the search for a bowl. "What?! You have a great job, Kate." She meant it. Kate was a lawyer and had been made partner of an incredibly successful law firm. "Why would you want another one?"

"Have you realised how hot your employees are? It's not fair. I only get to work with obese, balding lawyers with terrible taste in ties and you have a legion of hot doctors working for you."

Cuddy broke into truthful laughter. Kate, despite her age, failed marriage, successful career and responsible mothering, sometimes managed to sound like a hormonal teenager.

"Don't be ridiculous," she managed to say in between laughter. But she couldn't help but become aware of the fact that her perception was not far from the truth. "I guess that explains why you were putting the moves on Wilson just moments ago."

"I wasn't! He's just a nice guy and asked about Emma and suddenly I was telling him about Charlie and…" Kate realised she really did sound like a seventeen year old with a crush. "He's a decent fellow."

"I know," Cuddy chortled while emptying the contents of the cookie bag inside a bright green bowl. "Still, I refuse to hire you. You're overqualified."

"Fine," Kate laughed. "But just so you know, I know the last one to arrive is taken."

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know. I suck. I haven't updated FOR WEEKS. I always promise I'd try to update faster and I never keep my word. Writer's block is a total, utter _bitch_. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please, do post those lovely reviews that make me absolutely happy.

Now, **SPOILERS AHEAD. Don't read if you haven't watched 5x23, **_**Under my Skin**_

What did you think? I thought they could have shown a little more kissing. We've waited patiently for this moment and they cut it short like that? That wasn't nice, LOL. Anyway, the detoxing part… wasn't it heartbreaking? I felt like crying the whole time. House in pain makes me so sad :(

Anyway, what are you predictions for the finale (I can't believe the season is coming to an end!)


	11. Dance

**Chapter XI-Dance**

Cuddy couldn't relieve Kate had read her so easily. She was sure she had been doing a pretty good job at hiding her… _feelings_ for House from people that didn't know him. But apparently, her attempts had been futile and worthless, since her friend had been able to tell there was something between them the moment she saw them together.

She stared at the kettle as if the poor utensil were responsible for her distress, mentally slapping herself for being so damn readable. Well, at least she could trust Kate would not tell every single parent how hot Rachel's mother was for a loony.

* * *

Meanwhile, House was stuck with Kate and Wilson. Every now and then, Joseph Cuddy would glance at him as if he were the devil himself. The old man's blue eyes were surely sparkling with hatred. Ruth had whispered in his ear something along the lines of "Lisa", "House" and "behave" several times, which caused Joe to groan in frustration. Ruth was probably warning him against the dangers of strangling an innocent man in front of little children.

And Kate and Wilson's flirting was really getting the best out of him. Chase and Michael, Cuddy's brother in law, were chatting amiably. Cameron was nowhere to be seen and Cuddy's sister had not even made an appearance yet. He was thankful for it, though. He stood up, uncomfortable, and walked away from the room as fast as his leg allowed him to.

"So, James," Kate smiled at Wilson. "How long had they been dancing around each other?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Wilson inquired, not quite understanding her.

"Lisa and that guy, House?"

He laughed out loud, amused. Even Kate had realised there was something between House and Cuddy, when she had only been with them for fifteen minutes or so.

"About 25 years," he replied through a sigh. "They're just too damn stubborn to admit it. Plus, House is a real mess."

"Yes, I've been told so…" Kate spotted a smile that slowly turned into a mischievous smirk.

"Don't you dare become their matchmaker. You will regret it for the rest of your life," Wilson exclaimed after he saw Kate's expression. He also couldn't help but notice Kate was indeed very pretty, with her hazel eyes and chocolate curls… and she had an overstepping quality he found really attractive. No. Wilson casted thoughts about women away. He had been involved in a series of short, disastrous relationships ever since Amber passed away, and he was tired of seeking for a long-term partner.

"But they look so good together! Maybe they just need a small push and…"

"Trust me, only the two of them can work it out." He didn't know if Kate knew everything. "There were enough pushes through the years."

Kate frowned and stared at House's empty seat. Where the hell was he?

She had always had an _Emma_ complex. She enjoyed contributing to other people's happiness, and had many times forgotten about her own in the process. So, she turned back to Wilson and set her mind to enjoy his kind conversation. He did have beautiful brown eyes.

* * *

"Your friends is nuts," House spoke up, causing Cuddy to drop the kettle, a cry of distress leaving her pursed lips as some of the hot droplets of water came in contact with her hand. She had been pouring water into the teapot.

"Damn it, House," she muttered through gritted teeth, as she paced towards the sink. She opened the tap and let the cold water run over the tender flesh. "You could have, I don't know, knocked?"

"Oh come on. It's not that bad. Insignificant scald." He was leaning against the doorframe, but made his way in her direction, and before she could protest, took hold of her hand and began to examine it carefully. Cuddy wanted to pull her hand away, but his tight grip wouldn't allow it. "Stop fidgeting."

"It's nothing," she assured. "Just an insignificant scald," she added, air quoting with the help of her unharmed hand.

"It's not that insignificant." He applied pressure into the sore red spot that had formed on the back of her hand and Cuddy flinched. It hurt. "You see?"

"Yes. Feel guilty." She snapped. House's close proximity was doing nothing for her reputation and her heart rate. "Can you please let go if my hand and let me put it under the cold water?"

"Don't you have a cream or something like that?" He walked away from her, and Cuddy missed the warmth his callused hands irradiated when they had engulfed her smaller one, especially when the frigid water touched her skin again. He began searching for the cool cream.

"Small box over the fridge," she commanded, as she closed the tap and stared remorsefully at the now ruined tea. House grabbed the box and placed it on the kitchen counter, in a surprisingly cooperative gesture. He opened it swiftly and found the cream.

"Gimme your hand," House said grumpily.

"I can do it myself," Cuddy replied haughtily.

"Yes, and then you will complain that you have a sore spot in your hand because I made you drop the stupid kettle. I can live without that." He retorted. "Hand."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and extended her hand, sighing. "You are annoying." House smirked and began applying the cream, his long, trained fingers rubbing soothing circles across the stinging mark. His movements were gentle, kind, loving even. He looked up at her, the shadows of a smile curving his thin lips. Cuddy found herself smiling back at him, despite her best efforts. She was officially pathetic. The man just rubbing some cold cream against her skin and she still got al fussy. Ugh.

"Thank you," she mouthed softly. "It's really not that bad."

* * *

Why was he talking about her dead girlfriend to a complete and utter stranger? If she was a potential date, he was surely screwing up his chances. But Kate lent him a sympathetic ear. He always needed one of those for himself, since he was always the one with it. The one who listened, the one who cared. The one who was always there for his friends. Cuddy was there for him, most of the time, but she had other business to take care of, from her six year old daughter to the Hospital. And House was there only when you really needed him, when the situation had hit rock bottom and there was practically no way out.

Kate might have had a divorce, but she was not needy at all. She was independent, strong-willed. And fun.

Was it about time to break his pattern?

* * *

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, Wilson…" House began to explain, but was cut off by Cuddy.

"I meant, in my kitchen," Cuddy grabbed the kettle again and resumed the previous task.

"I was bored. Your friend is nuts and having a fabulous time flirting with Wilson…"

"I'm surprised you didn't ruin his chances by revealing his most embarrassing secrets." Cuddy chuckled.

"Not necessary, he's doing it all by himself…" House paused for a moment. "Plus, I think your father is seriously considering killing me and burying me in the backyard." House took a step forward and stole one of the cookies from the bowl. Cuddy merely rolled her eyes.

"You can't really blame him, can you?"

"Hey! I was in my best behaviour when I met him," he argued, his mouth full of cookie crumbles. "And I'm my best behaviour today."

"Swallow, and then talk," Cuddy said in her best maternal tone as she proceeded to grab the kettle again, not before sending House a warning glare. "You made me cry once during the holiday you spent with us. That's enough for a father."

House froze. Was that true? How come she never told him? He remembered their argument clearly. She had stormed away from his side visibly hurt and upset, but…crying? She had shed tears because of their quarrelling? He took a few steps in her direction, until he was standing directly beside her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, before realising he had actually apologised. What was wrong with him?

"Late apology, but at least you apologised." Cuddy successfully managed to fill the teapot, even when House's propinquity made her feel slightly uneasy. "Still, I'd rather sit and watch while my dad rips your skin off."

"And they say _I'm_ the nasty one…"

Cuddy turned around in order to protest. She hadn't realised how close he really was until her face came in contact with his still broad chest.

"Ouch," House complained.

"Don't be a baby. You were standing three inches away from me. Consider it your punishment," Cuddy tapped his shoulder patronizingly.

"Did I mention how hot you look in that outfit?" House was eyeing at her suggestively. It _was_ true.

"I was hoping you wouldn't," Cuddy lied, feeling a hot sting on her cheeks.

"Then why are you blushing?" He inquired, and Cuddy could almost hear him smirking. It was infuriating, and all the more because it was true. She hoped someone would wonder why the hell making some tea was taking her so long.

"I'm not," she protested, but it was futile. House was examining her face closely, so closely she could almost feel his hot breath tickling her skin. This had to stop.

* * *

"I bet they're screwing their brains out right now," Kate chuckled. Lisa was really taking her time with the tea and House sudden disappearance made it likely.

"That, or Cuddy murdered him and is trying to hide the body," Wilson laughed, nonetheless admitting to himself Cuddy would never dare do House any harm.

"I seriously doubt it…" Kate couldn't help but laugh again.

"Uncle James," Wilson heard Rachel's voice called out to him. She walked on his direction crawled onto his lap and wrapped her little arm around her uncle's shoulders. Kate smiled.

"What is it, kiddo?" Wilson stared at the little girl fondly, not really buying she was already six years old. Yesterday, she was a tiny baby, and now she was six. It didn't make any sense.

"Where's mom?" Rachel asked after scanning the room with her eager blue eyes, noticing her mother's absence. She then smiled at her two grandparents. "I want to have cake. Please?"

"I'll go find her," Kate offered, rising from her chair in one fluid swift motion. She didn't want to get in the way of the sweet uncle and niece moment, and she was way too curious about Lisa and House to pass up the opportunity to check what they were up to…

* * *

"What are you doing?" House's lips were inches away from hers. This couldn't end up well.

**TBC…**

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* * *

  
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**A/N:** Feel free to throw rocks at me for this late update. I hope you liked it :)

So, SEASON FINALE. I feel slightly cheated, but I'm not that angry. House's hallucinations pretty much confirmed he really, really cares for Cuddy, which was nice. There's a lot of Huddy potential for the following seasons. But the final scene just broke my heart (though I'm happy Chase and Cameron got married). I couldn't even cry, such was my despair!


	12. Chaos?

**Chapter XII- Chaos?**

"House, what are you doing?" Cuddy asked, panicking. He had her trapped against the kitchen countertop, his two lean arms preventing her from moving. He had pulled back a tad bit and was staring at her intently, so intently she had to lower her gaze. Why did he have to be such an ass? Twenty four hours ago, he didn't even want to be there, and now he was not only in the very premises of her kitchen, but he was attempting to, what, kiss her?

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He replied in a somewhat rough voice.

"Trying to rape me," Cuddy hissed, annoyed. Anybody, including Rachel, could walk in on them. She was in for the humiliation of her life. "Get off me, House," she warned him, her skin turning a bright shade of red. And why did he have to be so hot? Why did she have to… _like_ him? A shiver ran down her spine when he moved a little closer, if that was possible. Again, her own body was betraying her brain. The organ that was supposed to be in charge was failing her. Lovely.

"Rape? Come on Cuddy, it's not like you are trying to bitchslap me," he said, that obnoxious smirk of his curving his lips.

"I will if you don't move," she threatened him unconvincingly.

"You could have broken free by now," he reminded her, still smirking. Cuddy raised her hand but he took hold of it before she could do anything. "Come on, Cuddy," he repeated, "I _know_ you want this," he added mischievously.

"I _don't_. And even if I did want this, which is not the case, I would never agree to it in these circumstances."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because I'm angry! You weren't going to be here in the first place! I have a room full of guests to attend, I have to check on my daughter and her friends and my dad is in the next room, wishing you would vanish into thin air!" She was upset. Madly upset.

House just stared at her, still smirking. He loved the fact that he still had that effect on her, after all these years. He really wanted to kiss her, if only to piss her off. It would be fun, and she looked hot when she was angry at him. He could always argue he had done it just to bother her, that it had nothing to do with his feelings or him actually caring for her and the kid.

He leaned forward and before Cuddy could react, captured her soft, pouty lips in a gentle kiss. Much to his surprise, and to her own surprise, she responded. In the spur of the moment, she didn't know when it started, or why. She couldn't even remember the pivotal moment in which House's lips came in contact with hers. She just knew she liked it, she needed it and she missed it, and she didn't want it to stop.

She gave in. She wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to deepen the kiss. House happily obliged. His hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, the feeling of his rough fingers pressed against her skin too pleasurable, too desired, too longed. Their tongues battling for control, her hand intertwined with his salt and pepper hair…

"Lisa," someone called out to her.

* * *

"Thank you," Rachel was sitting on her uncle's lap and looked up at him when she spoke. Wilson had suggested she should go find her friends, but she said she wanted to stay with him "just for a fraction of a second". Where did she learn that kind of expressions was beyond him. He allowed her to stay, partly because he wanted to spend time with her. If she was a baby just moments ago, and was now turning six, then she would soon be a teenager...

"For what?" He asked, confused.

"House," Rachel spotted a huge smile. "Did you kick him?"

"No, I didn't have too. But I would have if he hadn't come," Wilson grinned and patted the little girl's head lovingly.

"In the leg?" Rachel enquired, evidently worried.

"Never," Wilson assured her and placed her on the floor. "Tell Cameron and your aunt your mom is about to bring in the cake, okay?"

Rachel nodded and ran away from the room. Wilson was now wondering what Kate had found out about House and Cuddy.

* * *

Kate had to suppress a fierce desire to laugh. There they were, getting it on, exactly as she had predicted, and judging by their faces and the sound they were making, they had been having a fabulous time until she interrupted them.

She couldn't help but chuckle when they pulled away hastily and yet reluctantly. House was staring at his feet as if they were the eight wonder of the world, and Cuddy's face was turning an interesting shade of bright red.

"Sorry to interrupt," Kate managed to sound mildly serious, and was quickly cut off by Cuddy.

"You didn't interrupt anything," the powerful woman inside her was doing all the talking, while her eyes and shallow breathe pretty much contradicted everything she was saying.

"Oh, no, of course I didn't," Kate smirked, her voice dripping with sarcasm and the now uncontrollable desire to laugh. They were so ludicrous. Cuddy threatened her with a glance and Kate knew better than to speak up in that precise moment, so she decided she'd save the jokes for the future.

"What happened?"

"I came to check you hadn't been eaten up by the monster that dwells in your refrigerator. Rachel told me about it. And since making some tea was taking you quite a while…" Kate joked.

"Yeah, right," Cuddy replied, not buying it. She knew Kate was way too curious about her and House. She was pretty sure she and Wilson had been gossiping about him and about herself or at least wishing they could.

"Rachel was asking for the cake," Kate flashed a kind smile. "I figured…no, nothing."

It was better than she was the one who had interrupted them and not Rachel, or worse, Cuddy's father, House thought to himself. Though he couldn't help but resenting her… what was her name? a tad bit.

"I'll get the cake, don't worry," Cuddy tried to smile, her levels of mortification increasing every minute. How come she had forgotten everything about the party? Damn House and his overstepping personality.

"Okay," Kate was about to exit the kitchen, then abruptly turned around. "Sorry, again…"

Cuddy gritted her teeth. "You didn't interrupt anything, Kate," she repeated, but she was already out and making her way towards the dining room.

Yes. Chaos _had_ ensued. Cuddy stared at House. He shrugged.

* * *

"If we had made a bet, I would have won," Kate whispered in Wilson's year, knowing Lisa wouldn't want the entire room to find out what she had been up to. Wilson granted her a shocked look.

"No!" He mumbled, utterly shocked. He couldn't believe House and Cuddy…Well, luckily Rachel hadn't seen anything.

* * *

"Care to explain?"

"What?" He said defensively. "You were the one who kissed me, in case your memory is failing."

"You started it!" Cuddy couldn't believe he was doing this. She walked to the fridge and opened it with a violent swing of the door. She found the white and purple box Wilson had brought earlier and grabbed it carefully in spite of the anger building up inside her. God, he hated him. He always had to ruin everything, even her little girl's birthday. Maybe she shouldn't have insisted upon him coming to the party…

No. She was lying to herself. She didn't precisely hate him and she did want him there… but like always, he had managed to mess everything up. And everything included her temper and her… _dignit_y.

"You weren't complaining. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard you mo…"

"House!" She said through gritted teeth. "Go away. I can't deal with you right now. Go burn down things in the backyard. I don't care. Just leave me alone until I finish with this. Then you will sing happy birthday like everyone else. You are already here and you already messed everything up," she ignored his hurt look, "so you better don't ruin this."

She fetched for the candle (a glittering purple six) and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. House paced away from the kitchen, cane colliding with the floor in loud thumps. He couldn't help but smirk. No. That one was a smile.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so I wrote this in about ten minutes while my mum screamed at me for being up so late, so I apologise for any possible mistakes. Everyone was so eager to read a new chapter that I just had to write something for you. After all, I always leave you waiting for weeks and you deserved a quick update, and I was suddenly inspired.

Maybe the inspiration came from the song I was listening to ("On my way" by Phil Collins, from the movie Brother Bear, LOL) but I doubt it.

It was mean of me, cutting it when they were about to kiss. And yes, I allowed them kiss. They were begging me too ( I sound like a crazy person), especially after the season finale.

If you're Chameron shippers, please check out my new fanvid (my account is undermilkwoods, you can find the link in my profile)

I'm planning on editing a Huddy one... but I don't know which song to use. Any suggestions?


	13. Wishes

**Wishes **

Rachel covered her small ears with her hands while everyone sang _Happy Birthday_. Even House had joined in the chorus, though he wasn't really singing: he just clapped his hands monotonously to the tune of that revolting song he had always hated. But being under the threatening gaze of a certain Dean of Medicine who was evidently pissed at him was working miracles with his willpower.

Rachel was about to blow out the candles when her grandmother reminded her she had to make a wish. Rachel stared at the sparkling candle and chocolate cake covered with white and purple frosting, frowning, trying to think of the best wish. Her gaze travelled from her mom (who was smiling down at her from her position next to her) to House, standing in an isolated spot, away from the singing crowd. He was looking down, and Rachel noticed just how… _unhappy_ he seemed. So, she made up her mind and decided her wish would not be for her, but for someone else. After all, she figured, there'd be more birthdays and cakes and candles for her. So, Rachel smiled happily and made up her mind: her wish would be for House.

* * *

"Gregory," Julie Cuddy greeted House coldly. The diagnostician was holding a small plate with a piece of cake that looked particularly yummy and was about to began the pleasant task of eating it when Cuddy's sister walked over to him. He wanted to run away, but the fact that Joseph Cuddy was in the room and sending death glares in his direction was intimidating enough.

"Hi," he replied, equally cold and uninterested. He played with the frosting using his fork.

"How are you?" Julie asked.

"Fine," he glanced at the piece of cake and then looked up to her. "You?" He added dryly, his tone suggesting he really didn't give a damn about how she was or had been lately.

"Great," was Julie's response, along with an annoying haughty smirk. House managed to keep his composure, though he had to really fight his instincts and not punch her in the face. "Still an ass?" She snapped at him.

"Still an idiot?" House quickly retorted, not in the least browbeaten by her words.

"You never change, do you?"

"Why would I?" House shrugged. "I get by."

Julie merely huffed and turned around, leaving House alone. She really couldn't figure out what the hell Lisa liked about the guy. Granted, she had always had weird taste in men, but House was just the worse specimen Lisa had ever been interested in. And she had liked him for years, so either her sister was a masochist or House had something especial she had never seen. The first option was way more likely. She had hired him, knowing the man was an utter liability and an asshole. She had put her job in the line for him several times and helped him when things weren't going too well. She had been a friend, and perhaps something more. God, she really _was_ a masochist, was Julie's last thought before turning back to her allegedly perfect husband.

* * *

House was beginning to grow restless. He had spent too much time at Cuddy's, and the homely cosy atmosphere of the kid's birthday was too damn warm for him. He didn't belong there, in that feisty celebration, with it frosted chocolate cake, colourful balloons and happy little children playing board games merrily. Suddenly, he felt utterly out of place, and he thought he had found out the real reason why he had declined Cuddy's invitation in the first place.

But he didn't regret having showed up. He smirked when he recalled the kitchen incident. Surely Cuddy would name it along those lines and blame it all on him, and he would say it was all her fault because she had actually kissed him back, and they would entangle in a back and forth argument that would end up really badly. For her, in all likelihood.

House had hoped Cuddy's friend had not gossiped about what she had witnessed, because in that case, he was in for a most annoying lecture, that would encompass Wilson telling him he needed to allow himself to be happy and accept his feelings for Cuddy and live happily ever after with her and the kid. He had heard that crap several times over the years. Sometimes, maybe all the time, Wilson did manage to sound like a broken record.

But judging for the way Wilson was glancing at him, it wasn't his lucky day. He could feel his patronising thoughts floating in the air and he could also see the amusement dancing in his companion's eyes.

Cuddy was chatting with Cameron and a bunch of women he assumed were school mums. Rachel whispered something in Chase's ear. The young doctor chuckled in response and Rachel ran away from the room, back to the living room, where House guessed her friends were waiting for her.

"_So, what now?"_ He asked to himself. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't find the strength to do it. Plus, he didn't have his car or bike and Wilson would most surely murder him if he were to interrupt his precious time with an exponent of the opposite sex. He could always force him to leave… but he didn't feel like it. _Watch it House, you're getting soft_, an inner voice suggested.

He made his way to the living room. At least the children would not ask him stupid questions, or stare at him all the time.

* * *

House took a seat on the couch, and watched the kids play Candyland until he succumbed to boredom and closed his eyes firmly in an attempt to take a small nap. But Rachel could tell the difference between real sleep and fake sleep. She'd occasionally glance at him, a "You're pathetic" expression plastered on her face, shaking her head before carrying on with the game.

Eventually, the bell began to ring and, one by one, all of Rachel's friends and even her cousins started to leave, except for a little girl that bore a striking resemblance to the woman Wilson had been flirting with the entire afternoon. The two kids sat on the couch next to him, whilst he pretended he was sound asleep. Rachel shook his shoulder quite roughly for a six year old girl.

"Hey," House complained, eyelids firmly shut. "I was sleeping, kid."

"No, you weren't," she replied happily. "And don't call me kid. I'm six now, I'm almost an adult," she added solemnly.

"Almost being the key word. I'm older than you, I will call you whatever I like," he informed her in a childish voice.

"Bully," Rachel hissed, crossing her arms and sitting back on the couch conceitedly. Her friend imitated her.

"Kid," House smirked.

"You two," Wilson entered the room along with Kate, the two of them wearing their coats and scarfs. "Stop."

"He started it," Rachel pointed at House accusingly. He huffed and rolled his eyes.

"I know," Wilson smiled.

"Come on Em, we're leaving," Kate said through a chuckle, offering the little girl her own small jacket.

"But mooom, I don't want to leave," she complained.

"We have to. Your dad is picking you up tomorrow morning."

"Fine," Emma stood up and grabbed the jacket swiftly.

Wilson did his best to ignore the sad look in Rachel's face when Kate spoke about Emma's father, but he couldn't help it. Something inside him cracked every time he saw that desolated expression clouding her usually bright and smiling face.

"Mmm, House, I'm gonna drive Kate home. Her car broke down two days ago," he mumbled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with an open palm.

"Oh, you want me to be your chaperone? That's so _sweet_. I've always known you were a good old fashioned lover-boy," he commented sarcastically.

"Kate lives in Mayfair, House, in the opposite direction from your house." Wilson replied, clearly nervous. "Stay here and then I'll come pick _you_ up."

Fantastic. Quality time with Cuddy and the little runt. Wilson and Kate had probably planned the entire thing. In all likelihood, her car wasn't even broke. Or maybe she didn't even live in Mayfair. He knew they were not going to give in, so he just went along with their stupid plan. After all, he could annoy Cuddy for another hour. It wasn't that terrible, except for that dreaded talk they would be having if Cuddy decided to discuss the events of the afternoon…

Maybe staying was a terrible idea. Indeed.

"I see you are okay with it," Wilson said smugly. "See you later, then."

Emma and Kate said their goodbyes and headed for the front door. Wilson stared at House severely.

"_Behave_," he spoke in a serious tone. "And you too, kiddo." He added, before walking away from the room in order to catch up with Kate and Emma. He turned back one last time.

"Bye Uncle James," Rachel waved at him from her position on the couch.

"Make sure you're not _too_ loud," House yelled, and he saw Wilson shaking his head in disbelief. Cuddy's voice reached his ears. She was saying goodbye and was now pacing in the direction of her bedroom.

"Wanna watch TV?" Rachel looked up at House, smiling widely.

"Sure," House shrugged, scanning the room for the remote. He realised Rachel was doing exactly the same thing, and when they both spotted it, laying on the coffee table, the two of them ended up engaged in a fight for the device. House won.

"Give it to me," Rachel spat out angrily. "It was my idea."

"Not a very original one," he replied sarcastically, turning on the TV. He flicked through the channels until he found something he knew she'd like. Maybe he did have a soft spot for her…

"Stop whining, smurf."

* * *

**A/N:** I wasn't planning on ending the chappie there, but I want to upload something because today, June 11th, our dear Hugh Laurie turns 50! Happy birthday, Hugh! And happy birthday House! Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think they share birthdays :)

Leave your lovely, lovely, reviews and make me smile on this cloudy day.


	14. Burnt

**Burnt**

Cuddy paced quietly, her footsteps soft and cautious, feeling slightly lightheaded as she reached for the door knob and locked herself inside of her bedroom. She took a moment to slam her back against the door and release and sigh of utter frustration. She had always considered herself a not very unlucky person, but the fact that House would wander freely around her home for another hour pretty much confirmed her perception was far from accurate.

Why did that kind of stuff only happen to her? She was pretty sure Kate and Wilson had planned the whole thing. But then again, Kate did arrive at her home by cab, so maybe Wilson had just acted like the polite gentleman he actually was and offered her a lift… she still had her suspicions. She would talk to Kate the following morning and even scream at her if the situation demanded it.

Cuddy sat on her bead and kick off her flat shoes in a defeated gesture. It was late and Rachel ought to have a bath. It was late, and she had to talk to House. She didn't know why, since she knew exactly what he was going to do. Deflect. Blame her. Anything but accepting he was the one who had initiated it all. She kicked off her flat shoes and strode to her wardrobe. She snatched a pair of jeans, an oversized T-shirt and a loose fitting grey hoodie and proceeded to change into the more comfortable attire, not before locking the door securely. The last thing she needed was House interrupting her.

She was tired. Exhausted, to be more precise. Rachel, House and the hospital were too much for one person to handle without losing her mind and, so far, she had done a great job at remaining as sane as possible. But it really was a colossal effort. She walked into the bathroom and proceeded to fill the bathtub with tepid water.

For six years or so, at least House had managed to keep his hands off her. But now, he had changed the rules of the crazy game they had been playing for years, yet again. Why did he have to be so annoying?

* * *

House was sprawled out on the couch, deeply asleep, the sound of his even breathing filling the air. Rachel had snatched the remote from his hands and was flicking carelessly through the channels, unable to find something entertaining enough. Her head rested against House's chest, his right arm wrapped around her tiny frame. Too focused on the screen, Rachel did not realise her mother had just entered the room until she spoke up.

"Come on, Rach, time for your bath," Cuddy said light-heartedly. The scene displayed in front of her arms had sent all sorts of warm feelings coursing through her veins. Every time she tried to get mad at him, he would so something nice that'd make him forget her anger fleetingly. And every time he did something nice, he'd find a way to annoy her even more. The man _was_ impossible.

"But mom, I'm playing," she complained.

"No, you are not," Cuddy smiled, knowing Rachel could invent practically anything in order to avoid her obligations when she was having fun.

"Yes, mom, I am," She assured her. "I'm playing TV soup," she added gravely, gesturing towards the TV. Cuddy chuckled. TV soup meant zapping in Rachel's mind.

"Remember what I told you? If you want to spend the day with your cousins tomorrow…" Cuddy started. Rachel growled and reluctantly rose from the couch, breaking free from House's embrace carefully. Cuddy couldn't but smile again at the gesture. "Come on. It's a bubble bath." she offered her hand and Rachel took it promptly. The little girl turned around, checking on House before exiting the room with her mother.

"You gonna come tomorrow?" Rachel looked up at Cuddy hopefully.

"I'll try," Cuddy replied, feeling guilty. She had tones of paperwork to sign and she had to do some research for a proposal she had to present on Monday. But Rachel had gotten used to the fact that her Mom worked a lot, and knew she'd eventually compensate her for not being able to do something.

When Rachel grew older, Cuddy realised she could manage to take longer vacations or stop working for an hour or two. The hospital, even if House was still around, did not depend exclusively on her. It had been a tough lesson, but she had finally learnt it. She could afford having time for herself and her daughter…

"Okay," Rachel replied happily, squeezing her mother's hand. "Can I wear my blue PJs, please?"

"Of course you can," Cuddy smiled warmly at the little girl while opening the bathroom's door. Rachel stepped in and quickly undressed and got in the bathtub. She loved bubble baths. She was about to exit the bathroom, when Rachel called out to her.

"Mommy?" Cuddy turned around and stared at her, her blonde hair already damp with water. The girl was playing absent-mindedly with the transparent bubbles and was gazing at her mother solemnly. "Keep me company?" She inquired with a small grin.

Cuddy grabbed the small bench she kept on the bathroom for occasions like this and proceeded to place it next to the bathtub. She sat and smiled at her little girl.

"Did you have a good time today?"

Rachel nodded enthusiastically while searching for the soap. "Yes!" She exclaimed. "I like that… Doctor House came."

"I know, sweetie," Cuddy replied, rolling up her sleeves and reaching over for the kid shampoo.

"He slept all the time, but he _came_," Rachel was in awe, and Cuddy couldn't really blame her. She squeezed the bottle of shampoo, a small amount of it falling into her open palm. Using her free hand, she retrieved the bottle to its spot.

"Your Uncle James convinced him," Cuddy commented, now rubbing her palms together in order to produce foam. "Come here," she told Rachel to come closer to her and began to apply the shampoo.

"Ow, my eye," She whined, when the fluid came in contact with her eyes. "Uncle James always convinces him."

"You think so?" Cuddy said through a chuckle. Rachel nodded and remained silent while Cuddy rinsed her hair and proceeded to apply some more shampoo.

"He's sad. House," Rachel said, surprising her mother. _Was it really that obvious, the fact that House was miserable?_, she wondered. She was about to respond when Rachel spoke up again. "He never smiles. And his leg hurts all the time." She paused for a moment. "What could make him happy, mommy?"

Cuddy didn't know what to say, so she told her the truth. "I don't know," she whispered. She really didn't. He was unpredictable, moody and too damn stubborn to admit that his genius would not evaporate if he allowed some happiness to enter into his life. She had tried, so hard, to help him find a way to a happier existence… but he had refused all her offers, shut her out completely. Cuddy liked that Rachel insisted upon spending time with House. Maybe connecting with a kid could help him. She wasn't sure how, though.

Sometimes she was sure he was enjoying her little girl's company. The way he would gaze at her or suggest they should so something insane, how he had managed to calm Rachel when that Charlie kid had been purposely mean towards her…

In that precise moment, her cell phone, which she had conveniently shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, began to ring. She stood up and frenetically tried to find a towel so that she could dry her hands. When she accomplished the seemingly impossible task, she picked it up.

"Wilson," she said.

"Mmm…Cuddy?" She heard the oncologist's tentative voice.

"Is everything OK?" She inquired, noticing the slight tremor in his words.

"Yes, except for one tiny little detail…"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. Kate was behind this, for sure. She decided to maintain the innocent façade.

"What happened?"

"Flat tire. Tell House he can either wait for me or take a cab. Fixing this is gonna take quite sometime," Cuddy could almost hear the oncologist rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

"Right now, he's asleep in my couch, so I guess I can let him sleep until you arrive." Cuddy said, playing dumb.

"Awesome. I'll see you in a couple of hours," he replied in a way too cheerful tone for a man who was trying to fix a flat tire. She was going to kill them both for this.

"Sure. Bye," Cuddy retorted.

"Bye, Lisa." He was about to hung up the phone when he heard Cuddy speaking again.

"And Wilson," she couldn't help herself. "You two suck at matchmaking."

"I'll keep that in mind," Wilson chuckled before flipping his phone close and ending their conversation.

* * *

" Great," Wilson said to no one in particular. Emma was asleep in the backseat, and Kate was sitting next to him on the companion seat trying to keep her composure.

"What happened?" She asked, barely able to remain serious.

"She knows," Wilson replied. He knew Cuddy would probably kill him for this. She hated it when he tried to interfere between her and House, and he had interfere quite a lot this time.

"That's because you suck at lying," Kate patted her shoulder snootily and let out a chuckle. "The woman could practically hear you blushing."

"Then you should've called," Wilson quickly retorted, pretending he was mad. "I'm sure you'd have done a wonderful job."

"You are like her brother, she is not going to kill you," was Kate's response. "Me, on the other hand, I'm just a friend. Trust me, is safer this way." She leaned back on her seat and shivered. "It's getting cold. Let's go."

"I'm sure Cuddy will be pleased to know your car _was_ broken…" Wilson mumbled, starting the ignition.

"She'll thank us in the future."

* * *

House awoke to the sound of familiar voices and the distinctive smell of food. At first, he was confused, but then he recalled he was at Cuddy's place, waiting for Wilson to show up. He must've fallen asleep while he was watching TV, and of course, no one had woken him up. He stood up, finding some difficulties after having slept in such an uncomfortable position, and slowly began to make his way towards the kitchen.

Cuddy was there, her back to her, wearing the most un-Cuddy clothes he had ever seen, except for that one time six years ago. She was checking on what he assumed was tomato soup. It was a way too homely scenario for House…

"Where's Wilson?" He inquired in a loud voice, causing her to jump slightly.

"Why can't you subtly imply that you've walked into a room before yelling?" She said angrily, turning around to face him.

"Because…" he rubbed his chin "That wouldn't be fun," he concluded with a small smirk. "Where's Wilson?" He asked after checking the wall clock.

"He called about an hour ago, saying he would be late because of a flat tire."

"Well, that excuse would make sense if he hadn't changed them two days ago…" He paused for a moment, realising what was going on. "Damn, I wish I had kept that mobber's cell phone number…"

"Yeah, me too," Cuddy replied, looking away.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Cuddy turned around and resumed her cooking tasks while House tried to decide if he should call a cab or something of the sort, since obviously Wilson would be calling any time soon saying his car had broken down or something equally implausible. They didn't say anything for about five minutes, the atmosphere growing more uncomfortable by the second, an unspoken question lingering in the air, invisible, but nonetheless present.

"House…" Cuddy spun around. Her eyes bore into House's for a fraction of a second, before the two of them looked away. Her voice was tentative, questioning. She needed an explanation, but was House willing to give it?

"I'm going to call a cab," House said in a surprisingly normal voice. How typical of him, Cuddy thought, to leave her without an explanation. Just vanish into thin air, without a word, leaving her behind, doubts clouding her mind. And she felt powerless. She couldn't ask him to stay, to explain himself. Maybe she was a coward, maybe she was afraid of getting hurt, maybe… she was just being reasonable. A kiss was a kiss, just a mere expression of lust on his part… but something else on hers.

"Okay," she replied, doing her best to stay calm. She was on the verge of tears, tears of frustration, anger, disappointment. She_ hated_ him, hated that he still had that effect on her, that he could reduce her, Lisa Cuddy, _the_ Lisa Cuddy admired by female and male doctors all over the world, to an almost hysterical state. It was endlessly humiliating. In the darkness of her bedroom, she'd probably come up with the perfect retort for his words… but it would be useless by then. So, the only thing left for her to do was to turn her back on him and avoid staring at him.

He sensed her discomfort, but told himself it was better this way. After all, nothing good could come out of him explaining what he had done. He'd probably keep deflecting and say something hurtful, or worse, actually confessing to his feelings… He kept telling himself he didn't do it because it'd end up badly, and couldn't risk losing her. He needed her so much he was terrified to admit it, even to himself. Which was why he'd take a cab and walk away from her, back to the shelter of his untidy flat, where he would be able to play the piano and gulp down half a bottle of bourbon—thinking of her, and only her. It had been that way for many years now, so he was kind of used to the routine.

But was it the best course of action? Was he really risking that much? Could he take a chance? Could he…

"Cuddy," he murmured, his voice barely audible. He thought, for a moment, that he would be able to tell her the truth. He stepped a tad bit closer. "I…I…thank you for the invitation."

Cuddy bit her lip and mentally slapped herself for being so naïve. "Don't thank me, thank Rachel," she replied quite curtly. "She's in her room," she focused her attention on one of the burners. House took a few tentative steps towards her, still not knowing what he should do, the loud thump of his cane hitting the floor resonant in the spacious room. He had thanked her, and that was quite a lot coming from him. But she was tired of accepting those tiny demonstrations and getting her hopes up. It wasn't enough, it couldn't be enough.

"House…" her voice was a soft whisper, "please, go away." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Unless…unless you are willing to explain yourself. Don't look at me like I'm crazy; you know what I'm talking about," she glared at him severely.

"It's not a big deal, Cuddy," he said, knowing his words would make her feel like crap but still not able to save them for himself. Damn it.

"Then leave," she retorted coldly, staring at him with disgust. "I don't know why you came. And don't say you came because Wilson forced you, because I swear I will slap you if you do."

"Well, I could take a few slaps if you promise to…"

"You're unbelievable. You come to my house, you kiss me and then you refuse to explain yourself. Then, you start with your stupid innuendos all over again." She was now facing him, keeping her voice down so that Rachel wouldn't hear them arguing, but her voice was full of violence and tension. For once in his life, House was at a loss for words. "Go away, House," she repeated, this time more sure of herself, looking him in the eye. Finally, her courage was back, and she felt more like herself and less like a silly child.

House just gazed at her, a tad bit fascinated. In a minute, she had switched from her shy mood to that fierce disposition that made her look incredibly hot. He had to fight the urge to take her in her arms and kiss her, again—but no, he'd probably end up dead if he were to do that. So he suppressed his desires and instead started defending himself.

"Well, you weren't precisely complaining, were you?" House said, smirking. "Judging from the way you were acting, you were enjoying yourself, perhaps more than me."

"I can't believe it," Cuddy hissed. "I can't believe what you're saying."

"The truth," he replied nonchalantly.

"Yes, your manipulated version of the truth."

"I'm not the one manipulating the truth. I don't know why I even bothered coming. I don't give a damn about you or the little bastard," he resumed. Her expression was one of deep hurt and anger. He desperately wanted to make things right, but he knew it was too late for that. He shouldn't have mentioned Rachel to begin with.

"HOUSE," she raised her voice. "Shut up and leave," she commanded angrily. And much to her surprise, he actually obeyed and stormed away from the room. He directed his steps to the threshold and without even bothering to grab his coat and scarf, exited the house, slamming the door shut.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh yeah, ANGST. This chapter took me quite a while, and I really hope you enjoyed it. It has to be the longest chapter I've ever written! Hopefully, I will be finished with my exams by Friday, so I'd have plenty of free time to write and update more often. PLEASE, leave your lovely reviews. Next chapter might feature a mildly sick House… I don't know, I haven't made up my mind yet; let me know what you think.

LOVE YOU ALL :)


	15. Hurt

**Hurt**

House stared suspiciously at the amber liquid the chubby bartender assured him was scotch before emptying the glass with one fluid motion of his arm. It tasted like damn urine, but it was the only thing he could afford, given the fact that, at that precise moment, he only had twenty dollars stuck inside the back pocket of his trousers. He had no idea how he would get home, but he knew he needed to get drunk as soon as possible. He gestured towards the bartender, asking him for another glass. The man gave him an odd look before quickly filling up another glass.

"Tough day, huh?" He asked, handing House his second drink.

"More like shitty," House replied sombrely before turning his attention to the nasty beverage. So, there he was, getting drunk at some lousy bar, fifteen blocks away from Cuddy's, having a conversation with the bartender. How pathetic and clichéd. The bar was nearly empty except for him, the bartender and some guy sitting on a corner table, staring at everything and at nothing in particular. It was a little bit scary.

"What happened, man?" The bartender inquired while drying some glasses and plates with a washcloth.

"What do you care?" House blurted out, finishing the drink with one large gulp. "Gimme another one."

"Come on, that's crap. You're gonna be wasted by 10 if you keep drinking that."

"That is precisely what I'm intending to do, and I only have 20 dollars, so give me another one." House said sarcastically. "The crappier it is, the drunker I get."

"Fine, man, but promise me you won't drive."

"Well, now you are just being a moron. How do you even know I will be keeping my promise? I might be crossing my fingers behind my back and you wouldn't even notice."

It was the bartender's turn to roll his eyes. "Are you always like this?" He asked while filling the glass again. "In that case, it is no wonder that you are getting drunk so early, on your own."

"Are you trying to imply that I'm a lonely, friendless bastard?" House faked a voice of deep hurt and anger. "You know, you are just being rude. I have friends. Two." He finished his drink. "And before you ask, yes, they're real." He was already beginning to feel slightly lightheaded and tipsy. God, that Scotch was really terrible.

"Sure," the bartender commented sarcastically. House requested another drink.

Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Why did he always have to crush her all the time, make her feel like crap, hurt her? And he cared about her: that was the worse part of it. He fixated his gaze on the new glass of whisky. Maybe he should go back and apologise to her. He hadn't meant to ruin her day; he didn't want to hurt her all the time. But he couldn't help it.

"You sure you are okay?" The bartender asked again, noticing the strange way in which he was staring at the glass.

* * *

Cuddy and Rachel were sitting on the kitchen table, having a nice, quiet dinner consisting in soup, grilled chicken and mashed potatoes for Rachel and soup and a veggie sandwich for Cuddy. Rachel was tired from the events of the day, and so was Cuddy. She couldn't help but wonder where House had gone after leaving her home. He had left his coat behind and the weather forecast predicted some heavy snowing for the night… what if he was out there? She really HAD to stop worrying about him. He wasn't her responsibility—he was an egomaniac, narcissistic pain in the ass that always managed to reduce her to tears and didn't give a damn about her or Rachel.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Rachel asked worriedly. Her mother didn't look too well, and Rachel could tell something was worrying her. Maybe she was worried because House had left and he hadn't come back.

"Yes, sweetie, why do you ask?"

"I don't know," she shrugged and cut a tiny piece of chicken with her fork and knife. "Where did House go?"

"I don't know," she said quickly before changing the subject. "What did your aunt say about tomorrow?"

Rachel frowned, trying to remember the exact words of her aunt Julie. "She said you should call her tomorrow morning so that you can…mm… _plan_ everything."

* * *

"You did _what_?" The bartender, Mike, exclaimed. After seven Scotchs, House was beginning to reveal some of his most embarrassing secrets. "You can't insult your woman's kid. Is like… suicide."

"I didn't want to insult the kid. I kinda blurted it out unintentionally." House sipped at his eighth whisky and let out a defeated sigh. He didn't even protest when the bartender called Cuddy _his woman_.

"You fucked up, man," Mike patted his back condescendingly.

"But I've insulted the kid before and she forgave me..."

"We all have to draw the line somewhere."

"Will you please stop playing Dr. Phil on me? It's really tedious. You sound like my other friend, except for the fact that he would suggest I apologise to her via some grand gesture." House looked down.

"I was about to suggest the same thing, minus the grand gesture," Mike smiled. "She deserves an apology."

"Great, now you sound exactly like Oprah, and now that I think about it, more like my other friend." House mumbled crossly. Even a guy he had barely met knew Cuddy deserved better. And what was his name, again?

"Go and apologise. Or go be miserable somewhere else. You can afford anymore crappy drinks, so I suggest you go, now."

"I'm drunk, Bart," House said matter-of-factly. "She has a kid."

"Mike," he corrected with a dramatic eye-roll "You are not that drunk, and the kid is probably in bed by now. It's almost 10." He made his way towards House and grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him out of the stool, not without some colossal effort. Mike finally managed to get House up on his feet. "See? You're not drunk at all. You can walk. Maybe you will tell her the truth, but that's not bad. Now go."

"Fine. But I'm leaving because I can't stand you and your relationship advice."

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me over for dinner," Wilson smiled at Kate as she opened the door. After giving her a ride home, Kate had insisted upon Wilson staying for dinner, and he had agreed, not before calling Cuddy in order to confirm he wouldn't be able to pick House up. Much to his surprise, Cuddy informed him in a distressed voice that House had already left. Wilson chose not to share that piece of information with Kate. It sounded serious, and knowing Cuddy, she wouldn't want them to discuss it. They had done enough.

Wilson helped Kate fixing something decent for dinner and, after she put Emma to bed, they had watched a movie and chatted about life. It had been a long time since Wilson had had such a nice time with a woman. She was smart and she was funny, and she was beautiful.

"Well, technically, you cooked, so I don't know if it counts as an invitation," Kate flashed him a smile. "And you're my partner in crime; I couldn't let you die of hunger." Kate had expected Wilson to be nice to the point of being utterly boring, but he quickly proved her wrong. "I had a really nice time," She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

"Me too," Wilson agreed with a boyish grin. "But I guess I better leave now, I heard it's gonna snow and I'd rather not drive under a blizzard." Kate nodded. "I'll," Wilson rubbed the back of his neck "call you."

"That would be nice," Kate assured him. She felt quite desperate, but, then again, she liked him.

"Okay, then, bye," He kissed her cheek goodbye and began to make his way towards the car.

"Bye," Kate replied with a smile on her face.

* * *

House had barely set foot outside the bar when the snow began to fall from the grey turbulent sky. It was then when he realised he had left his coat at Cuddy's place, and silently cursed himself for his stupidity. The snow was wetting his thin cotton shirt, soaking him entirely, causing him to shiver. And he couldn't even afford a damn taxi, since he had spent all of his money in cheap alcohol. And he was drunk, and his house was too far away for him to walk, with his leg and the stormy weather. So he _had_ to go back to Cuddy's (or to Cuddy?) if only to retrieve his coat…

And maybe, apologise. Maybe the influence of those ten drinks was the only thing that would finally get him to act like a decent human being, that would finally allow him to act out on his deeply hidden feelings. Once the dam was broken, they would find a way to work it out.

* * *

Cuddy heard a soft knock on the door, but refused to acknowledge it. She told herself it had probably been the wind and tried to get back to sleep, her bed too warm and comfortable for her to abandon it. But the knock persisted, too constant and perceptible to be ignored. Obviously, the wind was not responsible for the sounds reaching her ears. There was only one person capable of waking her at ungodly hours, and she was supposed to ignore that person. But as soon as she realised it might be him knocking, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, not before pulling over an oversized woollen cardigan over her pyjamas.

But she wasn't expecting to find him in that state. He was soaked to the bone, his pink shirt plastered to his body, his hair full of tiny snowflakes. He was shivering violently from the cold, his teeth chattering along with the tremors of his body. She noticed that his eyes were glassy and that he smelled of alcohol, and judging from the way he was standing, he was, indeed, drunk. She could have slammed the door shut and let him freeze to death, but something in his eyes prevented her from doing so. They were, apart from glassy, pleading, begging her to let him in. Vulnerable.

"Oh God, House," Cuddy whispered, taking hold of one his cold hands and dragging him in effortlessly. She closed the door behind them before the chilly wind could do further damage and noticed he had a bleeding cut on the right side of his face. "What happened?"

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I'm mean. I should really stop ending every single chapter with a cliffie. I passed all my classes with As, so I will be having much more free time :) Expect more frequent updates from now on.

Anyway, did you like the chapter? I certainly hope you did. And, to my "displeased reader", don't worry. I know what House said in the last chapter was incredibly mean, but personally, I think he has done worse before. They will find a way to fix the mess he created, they always do. To ALL my readers, thanks for the 30 reviews the last chapter got, and for your suggestions for this chapter!

Love you all.


	16. Long night

**Long night**

"I…" He struggled to get the words out of his constricted throat "forgot…my….coat."

Cuddy put her hand to his forehead, checking his temperature. He wasn't running a fever, but he would, very soon, if he remained wet and cold. He just stared at her, with a painfully honest stare she had seen only a few times before, and tried to say something.

She examined his face carefully, her soft and warm hands against his cold skin. The cut was not too deep, but it had to be disinfected soon. He was still shivering. He needed a hot bath, soup and some dry clothes. She didn't know where she'd find a set of appropriate clothes, but right now, she just knew he needed to strip off the wet garments if he didn't want to catch pneumonia.

"Come here," She took his large calloused hand in hers and pulled him down the hallway, his footsteps shaky and unsteady. He was more than just slightly drunk. She hoped Rachel was deeply asleep, because she didn't want her little girl to see House in that lamentable state. What the hell had happened to him? Where had he been? A millions thoughts and questions raced through her sleepy mind, but she momentarily blocked them, more worried about his health.

"I'm…fine."

"No, you are not." It was amazing, Cuddy thought, how easily she gave in to him. A few hours ago, he had insulted and offended her, and now, there she was, helping him out. He didn't deserve it, but she couldn't help but doing it.

"I'm fine," he sat on the toilet warily. His voice sounded strangely broken and Cuddy could smell the alcohol in his breath when she kneeled down in front of him, until she could make eye contact with him. He looked away. "You…shouldn't…help…me."

"House," Cuddy spoke up. "You might be an ass, but I won't let you die of pneumonia. You are completely soaked and you're drunk. I don't know where you've been, but you need help."

House merely nodded and started unbuttoning his damp shirt. Cuddy helped him slide the cold, wet material down his arms, her warm hand running over his cool skin once again. Cuddy couldn't suppress a slight shiver when she realised House was staring at her absorbedly. She retreated from his sightline for a moment in order to grab the cotton and the alcohol from the bathroom's cabinet. She then proceeded to clean thoroughly the bleeding cut. House grimaced and turned his face away from her as she applied pressure with a small ball of fluffy cotton drenched in alcohol. The cut wasn't very deep, but it surely hurt as hell when the injured flesh came in contact with the fluid.

"Don't be a baby," Cuddy grabbed his chin and turn his face around so that she could finish cleaning the wound. When she was done, she threw the cotton ball into the dustbin. "Rub some ointment on it when you are finished with your bath. Now, get in the shower. I'll see if I can find you some clothes. Maybe my neighbour left some…"

Despite his intoxicated state, House smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"You're unbelievable. I did _their_ laundry two days ago because their washing machine had broken down," Cuddy couldn't suppress a fit of laughter.

"Get in the shower," she warned him before walking out of the room.

* * *

House stepped into the shower, doing his best not to fall ungraciously to the floor as he did. He let the hot water gradually warm up his cold body, and mentally cursed himself for having ended up in that situation. He shouldn't have gone to that stupid bar. He should have taken a cab and gotten drunk, really drunk, in the comfort of his own house, where no one would bother him. The water splashed across his chest, and he stared at the tiny droplets before leaning back and letting the tepid liquid run freely across his back.

And he wasn't _that_ drunk— he still remembered all the horrid details of his conversation with Cuddy. Her heartbroken expression, the anger and hurt in her voice. The echo of his own emotionless voice. He closed his eyes firmly. He felt a dull ache in the back of his head and a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. And there she was, helping him. And he had had plenty of time to voice his apology and he still hadn't done it.

He turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, almost losing his balance in the process. He held a firm grip on the edge of the washbasin and was finally able to steady himself. He reached for the clean, soft towel Cuddy had promptly hanged in the tower rail. He dried himself as fast as he could manage, feeling the numbness in his head increasing by the minute. House knew that, in a matter of hours, he would be suffering from a splitting headache. He wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist and tied it with a loose knot. He limped his way towards Cuddy's bedroom, where he found a set of clothes neatly ironed and folded waiting for him on top of Cuddy's bed. She was nowhere to be seen.

He let go of the towel and hastily got dressed, finding the perfume and texture of the boxers, sweatpants and T-shirt Cuddy had found for him greatly comforting and surprisingly lukewarm. She had probably ironed them just for him, and he couldn't help but smile when he thought about it. But his smile didn't last long. As soon as he had finished with the T-shirt, he felt that burning sensation in his stomach again. He paced quickly towards the bathroom, and, with a painful inclination, kneeled down in front of the lavatory, gripping the edges of it firmly, the porcelain cool against his fingers. Relief washed over him as he threw up, his shoulder quivering slightly as those crappy drinks finally caught up with him.

* * *

Cuddy checked on Rachel and breathed out a sigh of relief when she realised the little girl was sleeping peacefully and, more importantly, deeply. She was probably exhausted from the events of the day, which meant she would not wake up in the middle of the night and see House in that state. Cuddy knew her daughter idolised him, and she wanted to help her preserve that image of House. Not because she thought House was to be idolised, but because she knew Rachel really wanted something close to a father, needed something close to a father figure, and House and Wilson were the little girl's two picks for the role, whether they liked it or not. Wilson surely enjoyed every minute of it, and even if House didn't acknowledge his role, she was willing to cover up for him, for Rachel's sake. She knew House had not meant what he had said earlier. If he did, he wouldn't have come back.

Cuddy padded to her bedroom, the sound of House's condition reaching her ears. It was going to be a long, long night. She had though about setting up the spare room for House, but said bedroom didn't have a bathroom, which meant he would have to stay by her side, sleeping in her own bed, occasionally waking up to empty the contents of his intoxicated stomach. Great. Just great.

She entered her bedroom quietly, instantly noticing the bathroom's door was open, the towel she had given him thrown carelessly onto the floor. He was on his knees, in front of the lavatory, not throwing up. He was merely staring ahead, his body trembling ever so slightly. Without having second thoughts, she entered the bathroom, making sure he'd notice her entrance by knocking on the door. He gazed at her as she took sit on the small stool, a few centimetres away from him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked kindly, running her hand up and down his back soothingly.

"Apart from the unbearable headache and the fact that what I ate last Sunday is now waving at me from the toilet, just dandy," he replied sarcastically, though he was really enjoying the feeling of her hand on his aching muscles, the way her open palm created a delicious warmth as it rubbed across his back. He could get used to that… _no_, he couldn't. No. Most definitely.

Cuddy flashed him a sympathetic smile. "What happened?" She inquired.

In that precise moment, House leaned forward and threw up again. Cuddy handed him a small towel so that he could wipe the vomit off his mouth.

"Do I look like I want to discuss it right now?" House spat out roughly. Now that he was OK, he was back to his usual self.

"For someone who's supposed to be drunk, you're being awfully snarky." She retrieved her hand from his back. He instantly missed it, but he was not going to say anything.

"Cuddy, I have a headache and my stomach is doing fucking flip-fops," he said breathlessly, putting the back of his hand to his sweated brow. "We can discuss it tomorrow," he finished, before rising from his position on the floor.

"You're not that drunk." Cuddy observed as he proceeded to rinse his mouth. She noticed he was still trembling. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Maybe tomorrow would be better for them.

"Believe, I wish I was _that_ drunk, and more," he said grumpily. He flushed the toilet and waited until the last traces of his drunkenness disappeared in the turmoil of water. He then headed for the washbasin, washed his hands and rinse his mouth. Using of his long fingers as a toothbrush, he brushed his teeth. Cuddy had already left.

He strode towards Cuddy's room and found her sitting on the bed.

She spoke up. "You can sleep here in case you need the bathroom. I don't want you running across the hallway and waking Rachel up."

"Nice choice of words. I'm cripple, I can't run, remember?" He commented sarcastically.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I'm doing you a favour that you don't deserve, so stop whining and go to sleep," she commanded, getting into her side of the bed. She waited for him to lie down as well, and afterwards turned off the lights.

He tried to make himself comfortable, to find a decent position to sleep in. But his head hurt too much and Lisa Cuddy's propinquity was… distracting, to say the least. He felt entirely out of place. He didn't deserve such kindness, after having acted like such a jerk. She should have slammed the door in his face and let him freeze to death in the porch. He turn around and stared at her intently, her back to him, her body moving to the rhythm of her steady breathing. She was probably asleep.

He was feeling better than before, but his head still hurt like hell and he was still feeling faintly lightheaded. But at least he didn't feel any nausea. The fragrance of Cuddy's scent lingered in the air, a delicious mix of vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate.

_This is gonna be a long, long night_, House reflected as he shifted in the bed, uncomfortable, and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** I know I promised more frequent updates… but truth be told, I didn't like this chapter at all when I first wrote it. I was angry at myself for having written something so out of character and mediocre, so I didn't touch it for a few days- But today, I re-read it, and I thought it was quite acceptable. What do you think? I hope you enjoy it and thanks a lot for your reviews!!


	17. Hush

**Hush**

Cuddy woke up at eight the following morning, feeling quite exhausted, but grateful the night was finally over. She hadn't exactly been woken up by House, but every time he left the bed and headed for the bathroom, she was conscious of it, and even stayed awake for a few minutes before going back to sleep. All in all, she had had a horrendous night, and the mere prospect of facing the day was utterly gruelling. She sat back on the bed and rubbed her sore eyes, in a fruitless attempt at gaining full conscience of her surroundings. Removing her hands from her flushed face, she casted an eye on House's direction, instinctively checking on him.

He was deeply asleep, grabbing onto the pillow tightly. His breathing was steady and his mouth was slightly ajar in his slumber. She took in he was paler than usual and the stains of perspiration on his skin. Well, she could let him sleep for a little while, before waking him up and yelling at him until he lost part of his hearing. She wasn't that mean. Plus, she still had to call her sister, wake Rachel up and get her ready for the day.

With a groan of pure displeasure, she rolled out of the bed and made her way towards the bathroom.

* * *

Showered and dressed in casual clothes, she stepped into Rachel's bedroom and silently headed for the bed. Her daughter was curled up in a small ball, with her knees drawn up to her chest, her tiny hands gripping her favourite stuffed animal securely. Cuddy took seat on an empty spot and gently caressed her soft hair.

"Sweetie," she whispered. Rachel unconsciously turned away from her mother and growled in complaint. Cuddy repeated her actions twice before Rachel's eyes fluttered open.

"Five more minutes, mom. Please?" She pleaded, her voice raspy with sleep.

Cuddy smiled at the little girl. "Okay. I'm going to finish with your breakfast, but I'll come back in five minutes."

"Did you talk to Aunt Julie?" She inquired, sitting back on the bed, suddenly not so drowsy.

"I did. She's picking you up at ten, so you better get up and get ready." Cuddy warned her, rising from the bed and walking back to the kitchen. She heard Rachel's footsteps, indicating she was up and probably looking for a perfect outfit.

She had spoken to Julie about half an hour ago. After reprimanding her for having invited House over, she said she would pick Rachel up at ten and that they would enjoy a lovely day at an amusement park. And if, by the end of the day, Rachel wanted to spend the night with her cousins, no one would object to it. Cuddy found herself wondering what her sister would think of her if she knew House was asleep on her bed.

As she proceeded to make some toast, she thought Julie would probably accuse her of being too soft, too weak, too permissive. And maybe, just maybe, because Lisa Cuddy had never wanted to admit defeat, particularly to her older sister, Julie was right.

She had let him into her house, into her room, and worse, into _her bed_. And he had acted like a complete jerk only a few hours before, hurt her yet again. Would she ever learn to say _no_ to him? She tossed the crunchy slices of warm bread onto a plate a placed it on the countertop, images of what had happened the previous evening racing across her mind. She had been an idiot. A sheer idiot. No she was not only mad at House, but mad at herself for having been so damn pathetic.

She helped herself to a cup of coffee, carried the plate of toast to the kitchen's table. After placing it next to a cereal box, she took seat in one of the comfortable chairs, the red mug in her hands. She toyed with it until Rachel came into the kitchen.

Cuddy glanced at the child's clothes, and was pleasantly surprised when she realised Rachel had actually chosen an appropriate attire for the weather. She was wearing a set of tartan pants in navy blue, red and white, a white polo neck t-shirt and a v-neck woollen blue sweater.

"Hi," she said, sitting in her chair and reaching for the cereal box.

Cuddy smiled at her and handed her over the milk carton. Rachel liked to do things by herself." Good morning," she replied.

The Dean of Medicine was tired, and so was her daughter. Their breakfast was quiet and tranquil. Occasionally, Cuddy would glance at Rachel, that odd sense of guilt she sometimes experienced bubbling up in her chest. She was surprised when Rachel didn't mention House at all. Truth be told, the little girl had perceived something wasn't right with House, so she decided she'd sensibly avoid the subject for the day. They spoke of the clothes Rachel would have to pack if she wanted to sleep over at her cousin's place and of the presents the little girl had gotten for her birthday.

At nine thirty, Rachel literally ran to her bedroom and, all by herself, got ready for her day trip. When Cuddy her help, Rachel flashed her a grin and solemnly declared: "I'm six now."

* * *

House awoke to the sound of a horn, rushed goodbyes and frantic footsteps. For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to remember where he was, and why. The bed he was laying in wasn't his but the fragrance that perfumed the sheets was awfully familiar, pleasant even. He was about to drift off to sleep again (right then, he didn't feel the urge to find out where he was), when reality hit him.

He was at Cuddy's. He was alone in her bed, fully dressed, a slightly metallic taste lingering on his mouth. And, now that he thought of it, he had a headache that was far from being just nagging. He felt as if someone had punched him a thousand times, leaving a dull yet throbbing pain all over his body, particularly his head.

He remembered what had happened perfectly, his hasty retreat from Cuddy's house, his nonsensical conversation with the bartender, his own body shivering with cold, then going back to her place. And she had received him and let him sleep on her bed, so maybe she wasn't as pissed as he supposed she would be.

He rolled over to her side of the bed, wincing from the pain it caused, and checked the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was ten in the morning. He didn't know what he was supposed to do: should he get up and find her or remain in bed until she decided to speak to him? The latter option was probably more sensible, but he was already getting restless. And, judging from the sounds that had awoken him, Rachel was gone, so exiting the room was mildly safe. Of course, he was risking his life by wandering out of her room, or even facing her… but a confrontation was unavoidable.

He decided to stay in the room until she decided to show up. His headache was far too splitting.

* * *

Cuddy waved one last time as Julie's car disappeared from her sightline. She hugged herself in order to avoid death by cold and went back into her warm, cosy home. It was still quite early, so Cuddy figured House would be sound asleep, since he had probably slept horribly due to his state. That gave her time to plan her strategy, and think of all the possible ways in which he could respond to her words.

Maybe she was making a big deal out of this. She had a friend. Her friend was an ass. Her friend had said something horrible, because he was an ass and couldn't help himself. He had always said horrible things to her, and she had always forgiven him… why would it be different this time?

Perhaps, it was because he had insulted Rachel. Or because she had believed in him for a fleeting moment. Or because she was tired of his constant games.

But she wasn't going to freak out. She decided to make herself some tea before catching up with all the paperwork she needed to finish for the following Monday.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, filler chapter :)

And yes, I _suck_ at keeping promises. I promised more frequent updates, and nothing has changed. The thing is, last chapter didn't get too many reviews, so I was discouraged for a while, and I was really busy for a few days, so I didn't have the time for writing. And then, I began to feel really, really bad (I will not go into details, lol) and everything ended up with a pyelonephritis diagnosis, three days ago. So, now I'm taking antibiotics and feeling slightly better, but I'm still in pain, and will be taking meds for the next ten days. Lovely.

So, review and make me happy, my darlings.

Love you.


	18. Battling for Control

**Battling for control**

"Yes, Wilson, I'm fine," Cuddy said in a monotonous voice as she awkwardly placed her phone between her left shoulder and earlobe.

"You didn't sound fine yesterday, Cuddy. Come on, you can tell _me_. I've known you two for ages and in consequence, I have developed a sixth sense regarding your fallouts, and I know something wasn't right yesterday," Wilson commented proudly, sitting in front of his TV and placing a mug filled with hot steaming coffee on the table in front of him.

"Maybe I'm still mad at you because you and Kate tried to set us up," she accused him again because, in a way, she still was mad at him. It had been a childish thing to do. "It doesn't always have to do with House."

"Well, he's not picking up his phone either. Oh, and I know he never picks it up, but I've phoned him at least forty times. He generally picks up when I'm in the middle of call number twenty three."

Cuddy suppressed a sigh. She didn't want to tell Wilson about House. She knew she could trust him (in fact, he was one of the most trustworthy people she had met in her life), but it was a piece of information she didn't want to give away right then. She was busy, she was cheerless and she wasn't sure she could take one of James' patronising sermons. Before she could reply, the oncologist spoke up again,

"And we discuss the nature of my matchmaking inclinations yesterday, and you didn't sound too pissed, so I assume something happened before I called you again?" Wilson finished in a self-satisfied way.

"Okay, we argued," Cuddy admitted half-heartedly, running a feeble hand through her hair. Her tone was so vague that even the less observant person in the world could have told there was more to it.

"And then what?" Wilson inquired, sensing her uneasiness and willing to discover what was going on between his two friends.

"He left… look, James, I stayed at home because I had to finish a proposal for Monday," Cuddy began to explain. "And don't worry, House is alright."

"How do you know?" Wilson asked, shocked. Maybe their attempt at matchmaking hadn't gone so bad after all.

"It doesn't matter. We'll discuss it later," she said in her best administrative tone, the tone that left no room for further questions and demands. Wilson was all too familiar with it to ignore it, so he decided he could postpone his investigation and let her be… for a while. He wasn't sure if he could suppress his curiosity and worries.

"Okay. I'm here if you need me."

"I know. Have a nice day," she snapped her phone close before Wilson could make any sort of reply to her words. She realised she had forgotten to ask him about his evening with Kate. The two of them surely make quite a match. In a way, they _were_ perfect for each other.

* * *

House padded through the hallway, determined to retrieve the spare bottle of Vicodin he had shoved into the right pocket of his winter coat. His headache was nearly unbearable and the sore muscles of his injured leg were protesting after having been exposed to the cold the previous night, and both sensations were driving him absolutely insane. He knew he'd have to face one rightfully angry Dean of Medicine, but even that prospect was more enticing than hiding in bed, enduring a mind-numbing pain that made him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

He checked Rachel's bedroom, making sure the little runt was out. The room was undeniably empty, and impossibly tidy. Probably Cuddy had taken care of it earlier. From where he was standing, he could make out the sound of Cuddy's frantic typing. He imagined her concentrated face, the way she would purse her crimson lips and frown when in deep thinking, her beautiful hands making their way all over the laptop's keyboard… and his headache grew worse. He was feeling guilty, but didn't want to admit it, not even subconsciously. He was determined to go back to his place as soon as possible, but he needed to be functional first. And being functional called for at least three little white pills.

Resigned, he limped clumsily towards the living room. He hadn't been able to find his cane.

* * *

Cuddy looked up from the screen, her eyes stinging with tiredness. She really needed to get some air and ease her mind from all troubles. She wasn't focused in her work, so trying to complete it would be useless and probably would end up in an utter disaster. She placed the laptop on the coffee table with a sigh of resignation, and fell back on the couch with an uncharacteristic ungraceful gesture.

She thought she could use something to eat. She had been working non-stop for quite a while and she had had breakfast hours ago. She rose from the couch and moves her arms about, in order to release some of the tension that had stiffened them, and walked to the kitchen hastily. But she heard footsteps in the hallway—which could only meant House was up. She ignored the sudden burst of anger, regret and fear bubbling up in her chest and checked the fridge for provisions. With am anxious smile, she reached for the only chocolate bar she had ever bought for herself. She tore the wrapper apart and spun around, just in time to meet House's electric blue eyes as he appeared on the doorway.

"Care to share some of that?" He asked, pointing at the candy. Cuddy made no answer. How typical of him, to act as if everything were forgotten and forgiven. And with House out of danger, she felt the anger of the previous night resurge. And since it was combined with anger at herself, House's fresh approach had irritated dangerously. "C'mon, don't be mean."

"No, there's just one left and I don't feel like sharing it _with you_. You can have breakfast and then I'll call you a cab," she said coldly. House knew that tone all too well. He nodded, lowering his eyes almost imperceptibly in a gesture of regret. When would he learn to shut his mouth?

"Oh, and Wilson called. He's worried about you, you should probably call him back," she added in that frosty voice before exiting the kitchen, brushing past him in the process. House opened his mouth to say something, but the speed of her pace didn't give him a chance to actually get the words out. Maybe it was better this way, since he kept ruining everything by just talking.

He rubbed his leg, suddenly remembering why he was up. He limped his way to the hanger and when he found his little white pills, he almost screamed. Desperately, he opened the bottle and allowed three or four to fall onto his open palm. He then dry-swallowed them in a heartbeat, and waited for the anticipated relief. Oh, how he had missed them.

* * *

Cuddy picked at the chocolate bar with little or no energy. She heard House making his way towards the coat-hanger, and heaved a sigh. She knew the cold of the previous night had surely affected his leg, but still… his Vicodin intake had increased over the last years, and he was once admitted at PPTH with what Wilson suspected was liver failure, but ended up just being a severe case of food poisoning. Still, one of the ghosts House, Cuddy and Wilson had always feared had become more tangible, more likely, an undeniable possibility.

And then, Cuddy realised what a mess she was. It wasn't possible for her to stop worrying about him. Granted, House himself was even a bigger mess, who always gave her reasons for losing sleep, but 12 years ago, he hadn't mattered that much to her. She couldn't set an exact date for the day she began to feel for House again, but she was sure the change had occurred sometime after he had helped her with IVF (and miraculously kept his mouth shout about the entire thing). After that, everything had changed.

But she was still angry at him, and he hadn't done a thing to redeem himself.

* * *

House stole a chocolate cupcake with a girly pink frosting from Cuddy's fridge and proceeded to eat it. He was an addict, but he wasn't an idiot, and four Vicodin on an empty stomach would do no good. And he needed to eat something if he wanted to recover from his hangover. He then proceeded to heat up a cup of coffee, which he promptly gulped down. After much consideration, he decided to walk into the living room.

"Did you call Wilson?" Cuddy inquired when she sensed his presence, focusing her eyes on the screen.

"Nope," He sat on one of the individual couches and rested his legs across the coffee table. He was trying the classic House approach. Do not address your issues, relax and see how it goes.

"Well, you should," Cuddy found the phone among a pile of scattered paperwork and threw it on his direction, without even bothering to look at him. He caught it.

"Where's the kid?" He asked, fidgeting with the phone.

"I thought you didn't care about her," she replied bluntly.

"I was just asking," House deflected, still not dialling Wilson's number. He was doing it on purpose. He was testing her limits, seeing how far she'd go. He was unbelievable.

"Since you don't give a damn about her, I fail to see why," Cuddy retorted, typing even more furiously. She wasn't going to grant him the satisfaction of easy forgiveness. They had had a war of power going on for years, and she wasn't going to lose this battle.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I'm stopping right here because I have a question for you, my darling readers, and not because I'm mean. I've been weighting my options for way too long, and since I haven't been able to choose on my own, I turn to you, in hopes of finding an answer (lol, that sounded really dramatic).

I can let House and Cuddy carry on with the banter and their war of power until one of them, preferably House, breaks down.

Or… I can make House leave Cuddy's home un-forgiven and make him apologise via a nice gesture, such as the desk.

I don't want to be VERY explicit, because I'll ruin the surprise element, but what do you think?

I hope you liked this (filler) chapter. It took me ages to write it. Oh, and I'm feeling much better, thank you for you kind comments and get-well messages. You are wonderful readers, and trust me; I don't like to keep you waiting, but life's been hectic lately.

Oh, and thank you for your reviews, the previous chapter got more than thirty!


	19. Not quite

**Not quite**

"Call Wilson," Cuddy repeated after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. She didn't know what she was supposed to say, or do. She didn't want to argue with him, but if she wanted to remain calm, he needed to leave. And if he didn't call Wilson, then the oncologist would call _her_ again, and she didn't feel like discussing her issues with him.

"Don't want to," House whined.

"I don't care," said Cuddy, switching to administrator-mode within seconds. "I just want you out of my house as soon as possible. I have work to do, and Wilson won't leave me alone until you call him and prove him you're still alive."

"I'll call him when I get home," was House's dry reply.

"No, you won't. You'd probably "accidentally" forget to," Cuddy answered, air-quoting the word accidentally. "Go call him."

"Fine," House huffed. He stood up, phone in his right hand, and walked towards the kitchen. Cuddy noticed he was limping painfully, but decided to ignore her concern.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad to know you're alive," Wilson exclaimed "Where exactly are you?" He added suspiciously.

House swallowed. To hell with it, he was going to find out eventually…

"At Cuddy's."

"WHAT?!" Wilson's shout both startled him and sent a wave of pain cursing through his head and the rest of his tired and tense body.

"Do me a favour, Jimmy, and don't scream like a silly little girl on the phone. I've got a headache, you know," he informed him, running a hand through his wide forehead. He pinched the bridge of his and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling dizzy all over again. He sat on a chair and waited until the wave of nausea disappeared.

"I'm sorry, but how the hell did you end up at Cuddy's?" Wilson enquired, genuinely surprised by House's revelation and worried about his sudden quietness.

"Long story," House replied in a tone that announced he didn't want to go into details.

"I'm all ears," Wilson said, smiling widely, though he knew House couldn't actually see him. "You're not gonna walk away from this conversation, even if Cuddy is in the next room."

House snorted, irritated. "Fine. We… argued" Even Wilson was able to sense the uneasiness and the remorse in House's voice, but he decided to remain silent. "Then I left and walked to the nearest bar. I met your soul mate. His name is Bart or Mike, but you two would make the most perfect and annoying couple of Cupids to ever set foot on Earth…" Wilson, again, ignored his remark, knowing House was just trying to distract him from the main subject of their conversation. "Well, I got pretty drunk…"

"I guess that explains the headache…"

"Hurray for your wits, Wilson," House voiced in a monotonous tone. "Then, I realised I had forgotten my coat at Cuddy's. _Then_ meaning the moment your future boyfriend kicked me out of the bar and the snow began to fall."

"You're pretty idiotic for a genius…" The oncologist remarked with a hint of mockery.

"Do us a favour and shut up, wonder-boy. Else, my cane is gonna end up all the way up your ass." House said sarcastically.

"The threat is getting old, honey. And why would that be?"

"Because you suck at playing matchmaker, Wilson. You tried to set us up and ruined everything," House didn't shout because he didn't want Cuddy to hear his conversation, but he was pretty damn close to screaming at the top of his lungs. Wilson's meddling had ended up disastrously, and he was not willing to take all the blame for ruining Cuddy's day.

"Why did you go back to her house after you two argued?"

"What?"

"I said," Wilson repeated patiently. "Why did you go back to her place after you two argued?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" House sounded annoyed.

"It's a very simple question. Just answer it," Wilson said smugly.

House thought the question over… he had wanted to apologise to her, but the words had somehow refused to come out of his stubborn mouth. He remembered wanting to voice his feelings, but being unable to. Wilson waited patiently, albeit knowing that the chances of House telling him the truth were slim. Something about House's silence suggested that he had hit a nerve by just asking the question.

"This is pointless. I'm hanging up, right now."

"Come on, House, you can't be serious…" Wilson began to protest, but was quickly cut off by his friend.

"Deadly serious," The diagnostician stated before successfully hanging up the phone.

* * *

"There. Done," House threw the telephone at Cuddy. It landed somewhere near her with a deaf sound. "Are my clothes dry?"

"It wouldn't kill you to ask _nicely_," Cuddy arched her eyebrows and stared at him admonishingly. "Especially after last night," she added.

House lowered his head in a barely noticeable way. Cuddy assessed his reaction, finding it unsatisfactory. She had expected, to say the least, an attempt at an apology. Granted, it wasn't the House way… but she surely deserved one, particularly after having allowed him to spend the night at her house. She could've kicked him out, but she didn't. A minuscule amount of recognition wouldn't have hurt her, or _him_.

"Anyway," she looked down, trying to hide the rush of mixed emotions that surely glistened in her eyes, "Since I don't care about you either, I'm not gonna be upset about it. Laundry room." She had always been such a terrible liar. She was positive House could tell she had never lied so much in her entire life by just staring at her trembling hands.

"Great, now I'm getting the cold treatment, with the monosyllabic responses and all," House made fun of her, not because he wanted to, but because it seemed the only way out of the uncomfortable atmosphere they had just created. The problem was his joking wasn't helping at all.

Cuddy stared at him icily.

His headache was growing worse at an impressing speed.

"Of course you are. Now get dressed and leave."

"I am dressed," he reminded her. "Of course, I can always get undressed and…"

"Don't even finish that sentence. I know you can make tasteless jokes about pretty much everything, but for once in your life, shut that stupid mouth of yours and leave me alone." Cuddy couldn't believe she had just uttered those words. She typed a few words, not knowing exactly what she was writing, and then raised her head. He was gazing at her intensely, shock and remorse written all over his handsome face. No, Cuddy thought. His face. No complimenting adjectives for the bastard that was standing in front of her.

Truth be told, he felt like crap. Not only his headache was a nightmare, but he was also beginning to experience the first symptoms of the flu. And he had upset her, one more time. Why apologising was so hard for him? Those two, three words. Some people could use and deliver them so easily… and there he was, struggling with them, or with the concept they represented. If he could just _say_ the words, everything would be better, or, at least, not so bad.

"Are you sure you are not… overreacting a bit?" He inquired, rubbing his temples. She was so beautiful in her anger, so amazing and… right for him as she tried to win the battle, their battle… would she even answer? It wasn't like it would make a difference, but he felt like an idiot, standing in the middle of a room, waiting for her to speak.

He saw her bit her lower lip, a set of emotions he couldn't quite name shadowing her eyes.

"Why do you do this to me?" House had expected a violent reaction, some cursing, some yelling. Anything but the subtle plead in Cuddy's voice, anything than that question… its sincerity caught him off-guard.

"Do what?" The words came out rougher than he intended.

"Screw absolutely everything up and then blame me, or everyone but yourself. I don't… care if your headaches or you don't feel like talking. I'm tired of putting up with your crap, I'm tired of you ruining everything. You couldn't even leave me alone on my daughter's birthday…"

"I came because…" _because I care_ "because you asked me to come and Wilson…"

"No, House. Don't. I'll do the talking now. I'm trying to catch up on some work. I wasted too much time trying to figure out why you act like you this. So, you tell me the truth, apologise or disappear from my view." She placed the laptop on the coffee table, and then looked up at him expectantly.

"I'm gonna go get my clothes and then I'll leave you alone," House simply said, as he walked away from her, yet again. Damn him.

* * *

As he reached for his beige trousers, House suddenly remembered the small package tucked inside the inner pocket of his winter coat. How could he have forgotten about it? The laundry room was small, if getting rid of a pair of sweatpants was hard enough in a small room, getting rid of them in a small room with the unpleasant addition of chronic leg pain worsened by the cold was even harder. He struggled with the t-shirt and the shirt, and was finally ready to abandon that confined space. But he took a minute.

What was wrong with him?

Why had he passed up a perfectly good chance to make things better?

He didn't excel at talking. He used to be a damn good lacrosse player, he could unravel the most complicated pianos, he could play some really complicated piano pieces, but words were not really his thing. The small package would have to do the talking… or part of it.

* * *

House emerged from the laundry room, barefoot, his clothes wrinkled, but clean and dry. Cuddy had found his shoes for him. They were still wet, but they will have to do until he got home. He had even worn shoes instead of sneakers…

"Done? I'll call you a cab," Cuddy stated, not even bothering to look at him.

"Not quite," House said, and Cuddy could sense the anguish in his voice. What now? He made his way towards the coat hanger and came back only minutes later. His limp had worsened, he was wearing his coat and there was something in his left hand.

He took a few steps in her direction and placed the object on the coffee table, right in front of her. It was a present, or at least, it was wrapped as if it were a present. Cuddy gazed at him, confused.

"For Rachel," he explained, deadly serious. Before Cuddy could react, he simply turned around and left.

* * *

**A/N:** Feel free to hate me. I know, I'm making them run in pointlesscircles, avoid the more important subjects and think too much… but I'm trying to make this seem as realistic as possible… and that's pretty much the esence of Huddy, LOL.

Oh, and the last past of this chapter might seem a tad bit OOC, but I wrote it under the influence of Mozart's Jupiter Symphony. Just how amazing it is? I was high on Mozart, sorry. I think the gift thing was a nice touch… maybe Cuddy will go thank him for it? ; ) ; )

OFF TOPIC: NEW SEASON! I'm loving it so far. I wish the old team was back for good, but House's writers cannot be trusted and SPOILERS I've heard Jennifer Morrison is leaving the show. It's been confirmed by Lisa herself, and I'm really sad about it. It's not that I LOVE Cameron (in a way, I do, I'm a sucker for Chameron, LOL) but she's so much better than Thirteen. And the fact that she's leaving points to marital issues *cries*.

Do you like the new season so far?

Please, do tell, and leave me your lovely reviews. Once again, I'll have to apologise for my sluggish updates (I just wanted to say sluggish after hearing Hugh say it multiple times on Maybe baby. Granted, he was talking about sperm, but still…). Forgive me. Life's been crazy lately. I've been sick, the second half of my college year started and I'm fighting against a most dreadful subject: Economics.


	20. Author's Note: please do read it

Hey people!

I apologise for the lack of updates. I love my stories and I really _really_ wish I could just finish them. The thing is I don't actually work with a writing-plan. I started writing in order to have a little fun and practise my English, but I never thought one of my stories would get over 500 reviews with only 19 chapters. I really didn't. I wrote what I wanted when I wanted to, without a clear direction.

Plus, I know you're probably wondering where the hell am I. Believe, I ask myself that very same question more than you could possibly imagine.

Life's been really hard lately.

In June 2010, my favourite uncle and godfather passed away rather suddenly, leaving us all shocked and sad. He was always like a father to me and I still can't believe he's gone forever. I was really depressed for a long time (I still am), trying to ease my way back into my time-consuming studies and taking care of myself and what's left of my family. I succeeded, partially, only to be confronted with another huge shock.

In March, my Mum was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. My MUM, who's always been healthy and careful about her diet, etc. I guess her best brother's death was way too much for her to handle. It was a lot for me and my sister to handle, especially considering my parents had a divorce eons ago and my uncle's death. He always so supportive and loving when it came to us...

My mum had surgery and is currently undergoing treatment. She'll be finished by October 12th and we're all hoping for a full recovery and trusting she'll make it, since she's one of the strongest people ever.

As you can imagine, I haven't had much free time to write. My life's pretty much chaos right now.

I really hope you can understand. I will try to update my stories when I have the time and feel like writing. Believe me, the abrupt end of the Huddy love has angered me too and I will do something about it.

I hope you are all doing well. Don't get mad at me.

XOXO

loveandsqualor


	21. Author's Note II: please read it

My dear readers,

So, here I am again, not bearing good news. At _all_.

Sadly, my mother passed-on last February. I still can't believe it.

After the chemo was over, she began to experience some abdominal pain… her CT scans showed an abdominal recidiva. The doctors chose that precise moment to tell us my mother had pretty much the worst type of ovarian cancer you can get (carcinosarcoma). It doesn't respond well to conventional treatments and can be really aggressive. So, she was scheduled for another surgery on December 19th. The surgeon (a wonderful, kind man who tried not to scare me and my sister too much) came out looking gloomy and told us the tumor was a lot bigger than they had anticipated and had not been able to remove it all because my mum went into hypovolemic shock because of all the blood she had lost during the surgery. He didn't say anything but we all knew there wasn't much hope after the partial removal of a 12 pound tumor that would just keep growing and growing and pressing into her vital organs.

She was out of the hospital by New Year's and we celebrated said holiday with her. I kept hoping some miracle cure would appear out of the blue or some unknown God would make it all right, but none of it happened. Soon after we were out of the hospital, she had an intestinal suboclussion that required another hospitalization. We were with her the whole time. Me, my sister, my family and some of her closest friends took turns, so she was never alone. Not even during the third and last hospitalization, the worst of all. She was awfully thin, her voice was changed because of the morphine and she knew she was going to die soon… she suffered an intestinal perforation that could not be treated. It was awful. After that, she went into a coma. We weren't with her when she died because the situation was just too much for us to handle, so we hired a nurse to keep her company during the night. It was unbearable, seeing my mother like that. We were there from 9 AM until around 9 PM but the thought of spending that night ALONE with her was too much. Too much.

So, after a few days, her agony ended. And here I am, trying to find my cool. I'm working at a secondary school (I teach English Lit) and carrying on with my studies. I don't know if I'd be able to finish this story. I started writing it so long ago, my life was so different… even the show was different. I hope you can forgive me and understand me.

If any of you went through something like this, I hug you from afar.

My mother was an extraordinary woman who had a rough life and she still managed to love, help and comfort others with unusual strength. But she tended to forget she was allowed to do whatever she wanted to do, regardless of the consequences. She tended to forget she was allowed to be a little selfish sometimes. My advice for everyone is LOVE EACH OTHER, and love yourselves as much as possible. Don't apologise all the time. Say what you think and to hell with it.

I just wanted to give you an update… I hope you are doing well.

XOXO

loveandsqualor


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